


Challenge Me

by notoriousdee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoriousdee/pseuds/notoriousdee
Summary: During a prank, Fred runs into a girl who will not only save him from a detention but will also challenge him in ways he never expected. She just may change him. And he will certainly change her; unfortunately, neither of them are prepared for that.





	1. Prologue

**May 2, 1998**

_Hogwarts Castle_

 

Michelle Cartwright struggled over the rubble coating the hallways of Hogwarts. She didn't think about footwear before apparating into the Hog's Head only hours ago. There was a moment as she felt the twist behind her navel that she remembered she didn't tell anyone that she was leaving. She felt the heat in her pocket, the adrenaline began to course through her veins, and it was the only thing she could think to do. This was something she had been waiting for: the call. He said something was coming and that she should be prepared. He told her it would be dangerous, but if it wasn't for him she never would've found the bravery within her.

 

She wasn't even sure that it would work. He said he had the coin for a few years. Michelle found the charm incredible. It was obvious to her that whoever performed it was very bright. When he gave it to her, she asked where it came from but he refused to tell her its origin. Saying, "A gentleman never reveals his secrets." He followed it with one of his patented smirks that she had grown to love over the years. 

 

Just as she reached the top step at the seventh floor, the castle shook, as a club nearly as big as Ravenclaw Tower came down onto the stone, shattering it. As Michelle righted herself, two Death Eaters flew into the castle, like streams of black smoke. They landed just ahead of her, when she heard the man she was looking for.

 

"You're joking, Perce!" The voice was unmistakable. "You actually are joking, Perce... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

 

All Michelle could see was a flash and more pieces of falling rock from the Hogwarts castle. Suddenly, the air felt thick; her stomach fell in knots. 

 

"No—no—no! No!" someone shouted. "No! Fred! No!"

 

Michelle felt sick. The smoke cleared and she saw him crouching against the wall, unmoving.


	2. Right Under Your Feet

**Friday, November 8, 1995**

Michelle pulled her winter scarf closer toward her neck, as she adjusted her legs under the long library table. November brought a chill to the castle that many are never prepared for. Michelle couldn't be certain, but she was pretty sure that the library, where she spent most of her time, had to be the coldest room in the castle. She easily deduced the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows were the culprit. Even Dumbledore admitted there was no way to stop drafts in a centuries-old castle. He offered to have Filch hang more tapestries, but she didn't think it would help much. About a week later, Filch was grumbling as he climbed an almost skyscraper-like ladder to hang dusty tapestries around the library, sneezing with each pound of his hammer. 

 

It had been a long day for Michelle and she just wanted to commit the ingredients for a deflating draught to memory so she could finally go back to her common room. She didn’t have an aptitude for potions in the same way as the rest of the Cartwright women. She spent the worst hours of her life toiling over a cauldron during tutoring sessions with Snape. But she knew that she needed those hours to become a Healer. 

 

Every Cartwright woman for the last ten generations were Healers. Whether that's what she wanted was neither here nor there; it was what was expected of her. The only thing she expected of herself was to excel. 

 

Late at night, when everyone had gone to bed, she would finally allow herself a bit of time to unwind. Revising and stressing over NEWTS was not how she planned on spending her seventh year at Hogwarts. She’d much rather be in the library reading books about fantastic adventures in amazing places, romantic love stories, and interesting descriptions of far-off lands. Some nights she wished that’s what should could be doing – experiencing great adventures, beautiful romances, or even exploring a far-off land. But she knew that wasn't a plan for future, just a silly dream.

 

To make herself feel better about the career path chosen for her, she continuously reminded herself that she would be helping others. And that was noble. Maybe she had a little Gryffindor in her after all.

Just as she found the potion she was looking for, she heard a loud snap, followed by several deep booms that caused her to jump. She figured it had been some first year, who was trying to practice a spell and it backfired. Surely, Madam Pince was going to have his or her head for performing spells in the library. That was number twenty-four on the Hogwarts Library Prohibited List. Michelle knew that list by heart. Madam Pince always said that if there was an award for Best Library Aide, she'd win it every year.

 

Quickly forgetting the commotion, Michelle began to copy the ingredients and procedure for Skele-Gro into her notebook. But suddenly and before she could do anything, there was a tuft of red hair sliding toward her table, wedging itself between her legs and the chair across from her. 

"Merlin's pants! What are you doing under there?" she shouted, pushing her chair out from the table to find one of the Weasley Twins huddled up, trying to make his limbs compact. 

"Nothing! Pretend you never saw me! Pretend you don't know me!" he hissed. 

"I don't know you!"

"That's it, Love. You got it!" he retorted. "Now, quick, she's coming!" he said, pulling the legs of her chair toward him; her rib cage slammed into the edge of the table, knocking the wind out of her. 

"Where is he?!" Madam Pince whisper-shouted, as she skittered into Michelle's little nook.

"Where is who, Ma'am?" Michelle asked, trying to regain an even breathing tempo while also trying not to whimper from the pain.

 

Fred could feel his heart beating in his throat. He could see Madam Pince's sensible footwear walking closer to the table. Fred was positive he could feel her wrath radiating above him. It felt like it could burn through the old wooden table. Madam Pince slammed her hand on the table right above his head. It was purely coincidence but Fred was sure that she knew exactly where he was. She was teasing him. It would only be a second before she pulled him out from under the table by the scruff of his neck. 

 

Desperately hoping that it was all in his head, he felt Michelle shift her legs, giving him a perfect view of her red cotton knickers. Was she a Gryffindor and he didn't realize it? 

_ Stop, Fred! Don't judge a girl, solely on her knickers! _ He thought, shaking his head.

He couldn't help himself, though. It had been so long since he and Angelina fooled around after the Yule Ball the year before. And even longer since that incredible blonde during the Quidditch World Cup _. What was her name? _ But he couldn't remember anything but the wiggle she had when she walked. He knew instantly that he had to have her. Her green satin knickers were soaked through as he pulled them down. He didn’t even have to ask; she just smiled as he pushed her up against that tree and fucked her as if there was no tomorrow. Little did he know hours later, it would seem like there would be no tomorrow. In that instant, he was back in that wood. His head was moving between her legs, ready to lap up the sweet juices. He was imagining those green satin knickers and that was all he saw—wet and hot, just for him.

"That—that evil, no-good, troublemaking, Weasley brat!" Madam Pince spat.  

When Michelle felt his cheeks grazed her skin, she quickly clamped her knees together. Fred bit his lip to keep from screaming in pain, before yanking his head out from between her knees, nearly smacking it on the underside of the table. 

"Well, I highly doubt either of the Weasley twins would be in the library of all places, Ma'am. They don't have the brains to actually study, let alone the patience to sit still."

_ Slytherin Bitch! _

"Oh, he is here, somewhere, and I  _ will _ find him," the librarian stalked off to find her prey. “The library will be closing shortly, Ms. Cartwright. It would behoove you to pack up your things and retire to your common room.”

Michelle smiled sweetly, nodded, and pretended to gather her things. Once she knew that Madam Pince was out of earshot, she slid her chair back roughly, careful not to hit the bookcase behind her. As the tall, redhead emerged from under the table, she quickly swatted at his head a few times. 

“You are such a prat, Weasley!”

“Hey, watch it!” Fred said trying to cover his head. 

“I should have left you to Pince!” Michelle fumed, trying to get one last quick swipe in, before he towered over her. 

“But you didn’t,” he bounced his eyebrows seductively. Leaving both of them wondering why on earth he would do that. 

Fred noticed the blue and bronze scarf guarding her neck from what he assumed was an incoming attack. It wasn’t even that cold in the castle. What was wrong with this girl?  _ She’s like 7 stone soaking wet.  _ Her robes hung open, giving him full view of her perfect hourglass figure. If it weren’t for the steely death glare she was shooting him and his impending doom to be swiftly delivered by the Hogwarts librarian, he would have thought about picking her up and pushing her down onto that table. He was curious how those pouty pink lips tasted.  

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to play dumb. No girl can resist the Weasley charm,” Fred winked, still thinking about her lips, as he licked his own. 

“Oh, is that so?” Michelle paused. “Do you flirt with all of the people who save your ass?”

Fred chuckled, “Just the exceptionally gorgeous ones.”

Michelle’s mouth dropped, unsure how to even respond. No one called her pretty, let alone gorgeous. Guys just didn’t say things like that to her. She didn’t even have a date last year for the Yule Ball. She went home for the Christmas Holiday the day before, electing not to stick around for the festivities in the castle. 

 

She could feel her face heat up, pink tingeing her cheeks.  _ How do you even respond to that? Don’t fall for his flattery, Michelle. _

 

“You are unbelievable… uh – um…”

 

“Why, thank you, love,” Fred grinned. “Fred. I’m Fred,” he said thrusting his hand into the space between them, "the handsomer twin."

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Michelle said, taking the tips of his fingers to shake his hand. 

"And you are?" 

"Michelle. Michelle Cartwright.”

She quickly pulled her hand back, before folding her arms over her chest before staring down her offender. Meanwhile, Fred was realizing how cute her pout was when she wasn’t quite sure if she should feel insulted or not. This girl was far too easy; she wouldn’t last ten minutes with his friends and not even two with his twin. Deciding that Michelle just wasn’t worth it, Fred slowly began to back away. 

“Well, thanks for the rescue and the—uh—view, love. I guess, I owe you one,” he winked, before disappearing behind one of the many bookcases, leaving Michelle with her mouth gaping again.    
  



	3. Technicolored Floors and Spare Parchment

**Saturday, November 16, 1995**

It was late afternoon as Fred walked the halls of Hogwarts on his way to the kitchens. He had spent most of his morning asleep, missing both breakfast and lunch. But there was no way Fred Weasley could just wait until dinner. He was a growing boy and surely if he got caught, his mother would stand behind him for that exact reason. Or at least that's what he told himself every time he went down to find the painting of a bowl of fruit.

The castle was deserted. It had been unseasonably warm the last few days and it appeared that everyone was spending the day outside in the sunshine. He couldn't wait to get out there himself, maybe wreak a little havoc. Positive that his twin was already out there creating mayhem without him. As he walked down a fourth floor hallway, the sun shined brightly through the high stained glass windows, casting bursts of color onto the stone floors. He knew there was a set of steps coming up that would take him to the dungeons, but he was enjoying the technicolored floor so much that he almost didn't want to find them.

It reminded him of the muggle toy that his dad showed them a few years ago. _What was that called? A call-eye-di-scope? I wonder if there would be a way to take that and project it onto someone's ceiling. It would be so great in dance clubs or common room parties._

This walk seemed to be more inspirational than the entire six hours that he and George had spent in the common room the night before trying to brainstorm new products for their joke line. Sometimes he found the best inspiration in the simplest places. He was starting to wonder why they spent so much time beating themselves up brainstorming when their best products came out of necessity or natural occurrences.

As he got closer to the steps that would take him straight down to the kitchens, he noticed that there was something just not quite right about one of the reflections on the floor. It seemed that someone had fallen asleep in the alcove of the window.

_What better way to start your day than with a little prank._

Fred approached the occupied alcove, hoping to be able to scare the person, even though he found it odd that someone would sleep there when perfectly good four posters were in every dormitory. Fred pulled one of the joke wands that he and George had created last week out of his pocket and crept toward the window slowly. When he was close enough but just out of view, he jumped in front of what he realized was a girl and pointed the fake wand at her nose.

“Stick ‘em up!” He shouted like they did in the old American Muggle westerns. He always liked those movies, as muggles called them; his dad had a couple from his years at the ministry. When she screeched in fear, he noticed it was the girl from the library. He chuckled as the wand spouted a few pink sparks and then fainted in his hand, going limp as if it were a piece of rope.

“Merlin’s pants, Weasley! You nearly scared the heart out of me,” Michelle swatted at his arms a few times only connecting with her target maybe twice because of her still shaking form.

“My job here is done then,” he crossed his arms over his chest.

Fred quickly noticed that he interrupted a study session; but on such a beautiful Saturday afternoon, he couldn’t help but think it was just cruel and unusual punishment. Granted, she was getting the opportunity to bask in the sunshine, but from inside the dank castle. And she was still bundled up as if it were about to start snowing on top of her any minute now.

“You know, you’d be a lot warmer if you weren’t sitting next to this window. Just because the stained glass is red and orange, it does not make it fire. I think you got the two confused."

She let out a sarcastic laugh, “Oh you are so cheeky, Weasley. I like the light here. The library is far too dark and my common room tends to be too crowded.”

“Ah, yes, I should have expected all the swots to be huddled around their books,” Fred quipped which earned him a glare.

“Well if all of the swots are inside, then why are you in here?”

“Secret Mission.”

“Of course, something to once again get you in trouble. Well, I’m not saving you this time, so scurry off. I will not be a party to your mischief,” she said, shooing him away.

Fred stood still. The fact that this girl wanted him nowhere near her made it a challenge for him. Most girls fell head-over-feet for him regularly. He was used to swooning, giggling, and moony eyes. He learned early on that if you make a bird laugh then throw on the old Weasley charm, her panties were normally tossed off seconds later. _Well maybe not seconds. If it was in seconds, it usually included a little liquid courage in the form of Firewiskey._

“So, whatcha working on?” he asked, leaning over to peer into the book that she had sitting in her lap.

“What?” Michelle had gotten distracted by the colored light on the floor. It seemed to move and change beneath his feet, which fascinated her.

“This,” Fred pointing to her notebook. “What is it for?”

“Um… it’s for the calming draught.”

“It couldn’t be. These puffer-fish eyes will have you awake for hours,” Fred said, pointing at a line she had jotted down incorrectly.

“Oh, no! I always do that.” Michelle furiously scribbled out the notes that didn't match the correct ingredients of the calming draught. “I was reading the stupid potion below it.”

“Happens to me quite a bit too. May I?” he asked, picking up a spare bit of parchment she had at her feet. Getting a nod from Michelle, he folded it in half, creating the perfect straight line. “I use a piece of spare parchment when I’m copying ingredients,” he said grabbing the book out of her lap, and sliding one side of the paper close to the spine of the book. He moved it to underline the last ingredient she had copied correctly.

“Oh, wow, that helps loads,” she said, starting to recopy her notes. “I’ve never thought of that before. How’d you come up with that?”

“I don’t have much patience.”

Michelle paled, quickly realizing that she must have touched a nerve when she said that to Madam Pince, only a week earlier. She honestly didn’t mean for him to take it that way. Michelle had only said it in hopes that she would be able to rile up Madam Pince enough so that she would think to look elsewhere, possibly somewhere else in the castle. She really was trying to save Fred. She didn't think someone with such a joking demeanor would to take something like that to heart.

"I'm sorry," she hung her head, not wanting to meet his gaze. "I was just trying to get her away as fast as possible. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't, love." Fred shrugged, wondering if he should be honest with the girl. "You were partially right, anyway. Sometimes our classes just don't move fast enough for me. I have a million other things floating in and out of my head. Taking notes and revising are things that just don't make my to-do list."

Michelle sat quietly thinking about what Fred said. She tried to imagine Fred as anything other than one of the twins who spent the entire span of History of Magic sending tiny birds flittering about the ceiling, creating mini explosions, and speaking in hushed tones at the back of the classroom. But she couldn't really think of him any other way.

"Plus, I don't understand the point of being quizzed and tested on information, when in the 'real world' I will probably have the book directly in front of me. And since they are so adamant that we will not be going to war because he-who-shall-not-be-named is not back, then where would I ever need to practice defensive spells?"

_Wow! He really is right. I would never have to brew a calming draught on a lark. That is something you store in your closet for a rainy day. I wonder if he really believes Potter and all that nonsense about You-Know-Who being back._

Michelle stared his profile, trying to find defining features that she could use to compare against his twin. She noticed he had a small scar above his left eye; his really amazing eyes.  Michelle could have sworn his eyes were grey last week; but now, as she stared at them, his eyes were a brilliant shade of blue. The kind of blue you would find in the sky on a beautiful spring day. Did the other Weasleys have blue eyes? She really thought the youngest, the girl, had brown eyes.

_Now, which twin is he? George? Yes. He has to be George. No? No. It’s Fred. Right? Fred._

Just as Michelle opened her mouth to ask if he believed Potter that they were in trouble, Fred turned to her with a giant smile on his face. “Say, I still owe you for your gallantry last week, why don’t you come with me?”

Michelle shook her head.  _Oh no, he thinks that I'll fall into his web with just a simple show of thoughtfulness._

“You in the mood for something sweet?” His eyebrows bounced suggestively.

“Uh, no, thank you.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t want some treacle tart or—“

“Are you going to the kitchens? How do you even know where they are?”

“That’s the secret part of the secret mission. So what do you say? How ‘bout some apple pie? You thirsty? Want some hot cider? Or tea? You seem like a tea kind of gal,” He spoke so quickly, Michelle could barely keep up. She was beginning to wonder how fast his mind worked.

“I—I... tea sounds really good right now.”

“I thought so! Well come on! It’ll be like an adventure,” Fred said excitedly, practically jumping up and down, while Michelle closed her books, not worried about remembering where she left off with the spare parchment saving her page.


	4. Noble Plans

**Saturday, November 16, 1995**

 

“Thank you so much,” Michelle smiled warmly at the tiny house elf, who beamed up at her.

 

She wasn't used to being waited on. Although her parents were both born into wealthy families, who wanted for nothing, her mother, a muggle-born, hated the “slavery of another being.” After Michelle was born, when Lorraine was the most stressed – taking care of a family, keeping a spotless house, and still working at the wizarding portrait studio part time – Mark, a pureblood, gave her a house elf named Trixie with the hope that the work she would be doing would ease Lorraine’s workload. Lorraine promptly gave the sweet elf an old sweater and refused to speak to Mark for over a month. It was the only contentious period in their marriage. Lorraine saw it as going against her principals and struggled with forgiving Mark for making such a grievous error. 

 

Her mother’s opinion had rubbed off on Michelle. So much so that she had almost joined that bushy-haired fifth-year’s club last year.  _ What was it called? VOMIT? YAK? _ She knew that her mother would have been proud and it wasn’t as if she didn’t have the two sickles that the bossy Gryffindor wanted as an enrollment fee. It was more because Michelle was terribly frightened of her. She was two years younger than her; yet, her pushy and almost commanding demeanor made Michelle incredibly uncomfortable. The bushy-haired girl, who was always with the poor Potter fellow, seemed to be very passionate about her cause, though. Michelle found her passion admirable, but she didn’t think she could help someone who she was sure would spend most of her time frustrated with Michelle. 

 

She unwound the scarf from around her neck, laying it across her lap. Michelle found the warmth of the kitchens delightful. Wrapping her hands around the mug of tea, she instantly felt better, as if she was home in her mom’s kitchen. With the rigorous revising schedule she had put herself on for NEWTs, she had effectively stressed herself out. She could feel the tension in her shoulders and neck. The tension headaches at the bottom of her head that appeared every day were not pleasant, either. But she had gotten tired of going to Madame Pomfrey every day. She could only drink so many headache elixirs before the foul taste would make her just learn to deal with the pain.  

 

“Blimey, remind me to show you how to tickle the pear to get in here.” Fred mumbled, his mouth full of steak and kidney pie.

 

Michelle couldn’t help but chuckle. But it surprised her; it sounded so foreign coming from her. She couldn’t remember the last time she really laughed, a great big belly laugh, where tears streamed down her cheeks and she couldn’t stop herself even if she tried. It had to have been several months ago, when she was home with her parents. They had been playing the muggle board game, Monopoly, something that her mother taught her how to play at a very young age. Her father couldn’t grasp the concept and continued to try to buy property that was not for sale. It got to the point where he had nearly no money left and couldn't remember which properties he had bought so he could mortgage them. Needless to say, he was quite frustrated by the end of the game and Michelle and her mother got a good laugh out of the irritated look on his face. 

 

Just as she put the mug up to her mouth to take a sip, she felt a tug at her robes. She looked down and a plate of bath buns nearly hit her directly in the face. The tiny House Elf was holding it high above her head, making sure to be as accommodating to Michelle as possible.

 

“Oh, bath buns, I love these,” Michelle smiled, as she placed a few on a plate that had magically appeared in front of her, smothering them with butter. 

 

“Why, Miss Cartwright, in all the time I’ve known you, this wonderful week, which consists of these two fabulous meetings, I don’t think I have ever seen a smile grace your lips.” Fred said, wiping his face with a napkin.  _ It looks good on you _ , he thought to himself.

 

“Ha ha, Weasley. What are you going to inform me of next? That I don’t know how to have fun and I should take a few lessons from you?” 

 

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Fred shrugged, shoving his fork back into the food on his plate.

 

“NEWTs are important to me. I need to make sure I become a Healer, or at least a Mediwitch.” 

 

“Really? You want to be a Healer?”

 

“Well of course, I will be helping people.” 

 

“Yeah, but you don’t seem to be the type.”

 

“There is a type?” 

 

“Of course, there is. You know, the mothering type, someone who is always making sure that others are okay. George and I always said Mum could have been a good healer, except when she was angry.” Fred took on a pensive look. “She’d be scrubbing at a cut or something and it’d hurt like hell. Then again, we were usually the reason why she was angry. So we probably deserved it.” 

 

“Are you saying I wouldn’t be a good Healer, because I wouldn’t be a good mother? You don’t even know me, how would you know if I am the mothering type or not.”

 

“True.” Fred thought a moment before speaking again, “But I still don’t think Healer is the right profession for you.”

 

“And how on earth would you know that? Are you some sort of seer? Should I start calling you Sybil?”

 

“You jest! I didn’t think you’d have a joke in you!” Fred shook his head. “You’re surprising me every minute, Cartwright.” 

 

Fred went back to his steak and kidney pie without a second thought. He shoveled in forkful after forkful without so much as looking up at the quickly reddening Michelle. She turned his accusation over and over in her brain.  _ Not the type? Not the type! What does he know?  _ Michelle bit her lip.  _ Seriously, what does he know that I don’t?! I can be anything I decide to be.  _

 

“Well, what is this great knowledge about my future that you seem to know?” Michelle snapped. 

 

“I don’t claim to have any knowledge of the future,” Fred said, still chewing a bit of his food. “Last week, you were furiously scribbling down some potion into a bulging notebook. This week, you were again scribbling down a potion, quite poorly might I add, into your bulging notebook. And a few days ago, I saw you across the Great Hall scribbling in that notebook while barely even looking at your breakfast. You dropped eggs all over your robes. And you just barely got your pumpkin juice to your mouth. I bet, you have some crazy revising schedule that you set and you’re killing yourself trying to get everything done. The truth is if you’re truly meant to do something, a. you’ll enjoy it and b. it’ll come easy to you. And if doesn’t come easy, but you still enjoy doing it, then it won’t matter if it’s hard." 

 

He took another smaller bite of food. The silence while he chewed was thick. Michelle was still pretty steamed that he could just make assumptions about her without ever having a real conversation with her.  _ What right does he have? Who does he think he is?  _

 

Michelle opened her mouth to give him hell, but he had cut her off before she could get the first syllable out. "Plus, I saw your notebook. You take extensive, almost obsessive notes on Potions, so I can I make the guess that potions are not your forte?” 

 

“Well, no… but that is why I take extensive notes and extra study sessions with Snape.”

 

“You take extra classes… with Snape,” Fred’s mouth hung agape, a disgusted tone in his voice.

 

“Yes. My gran set them up in year four when it didn’t look like I would be able to get an O in potions.” Fred looked at Michelle as if she didn’t have a brain in her head. “Honestly, I should be thankful. Professor Snape doesn’t give private lessons to just anyone.”

 

“That’s because he’s a slimy git who takes pleasure in seeing young children fail.”

 

“I don’t think so. I think he just wants to make sure we’re prepared. He doesn’t want us to one day blow up our homes because we weren’t properly taught.”

 

“That’s codswallop,” Fred swallowed. “I’ve seen the glint in his eye when someone’s potion fizzles and then explodes. He experiences genuine glee from it.”

 

Michelle turned this over in her mind a minute, trying not to think too poorly of a man who was helping her achieve her goals.  _ Helping you because of the load of money Gran sends him each year.  _ “That’s half my problem, I think. He intimidates me. So, the more time I practice, the better I get… usually.”

 

“But why a Healer? You could have picked something that didn’t entail you making potions.” 

 

“Tradition,” she took a sip of her tea. "Every woman in the Cartwright family have been healers for the last ten generations. It will make my father and gran proud. And it's a noble profession, something I would be proud to be a part of,” stating her well-rehearsed speech. 

 

“Well as admirable as that is, I don’t think you have the best of intentions.” 

 

“What are you trying to say?”

 

“Look, I’m sure you’ll revise your brains out and pass your healing tests with flying colors,” he smiled, “but you don't have to do something just because it will make your family happy. Eventually, you'll hate the job and then in turn resent your family for making you do it.”

 

Michelle frowned into her mug.  _ I shouldn't have said anything at all. Why couldn't I just giggle like all the other girls do and let him believe that he had me under his spell? It probably would have been easier. _

 

She knew that it wasn't a good idea to argue with a Weasley twin. No one ever won. But the worrisome part was that she was afraid he was right. If she did become a Healer, she could end up hating it and resenting everything and everyone that pushed her there. 

 

However, it was entirely possible that Fred Weasley, one of the biggest pranksters in the school, was just making everything up as he went along.  _ What does he even know about family tradition? _ She had heard that his parents were none too happy with what the oldest Weasley sons had devoted their lives to. 

 

_ The oldest Weasley breaking curses at Gringotts - must worry their mother to death. And the Quidditch player, the one that was really good, but just couldn't get his team together enough to win a Quidditch Cup when he was captain, he's off studying dragons in Romania. What a Twit! Of course, there's Percy too! I remember him, nice fellow. He's working for Fudge now. I don't see how they could have a problem with that, but I heard that Mr. Weasley was furious about the whole thing.  Bunch of barmy fools! _

 

Becoming a healer and making her family happy was something that Michelle just felt that she had to do now. And no conversation with a silly fool, like Fred Weasley, would change her mind. She was sure that she would love her job and find a real sense of purpose from it. But deep down, she was still harboring the fear that resentment would begin bubbling upwards. 

 

Fred could see that what he had said left Michelle deep in thought. She had a focused look on her face that he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t the look she had when she was taking notes earlier and in the library the first time they met. He couldn’t help but admire her devotion to her schoolwork. It didn’t seem to matter whether she liked the subject or not, she gave her whole heart to everything she did. He wished he could be just as devoted to the things he wasn’t thrilled with. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Fred said, a forkful of food poised in front of his mouth.

 

_ I doubt you do.  _ Michelle looked up from her tea to the bright blue eyes in front of her and it seemed like she had entirely lost her train of thought. _  Surely, all the Weasley eyes must sparkle like that. Don’t they? _ “Hmm?” she asked.

 

“You think that I have no idea what it’s like to have an important job. That all I want is to goof off.”

 

Fred's comment made Michelle snap back to reality.  _ How could he know that?  _ Michelle started to wonder if he had mastered Legilimency. He would know the perfect thing to say all the time. He could quickly counter in any argument before she even had a chance to get all her words out.  _ Didn't he do that a few times already? _ This made her nervous. She had just been thinking awful, terrible things about his family and to make matters worse, she had just been having a little daydream about how pretty his eyes were.  _ What would he think of me? _ She quickly dismissed the thought. It took years to be a powerful enough Legilimens to just read someone’s mind without a wand pointed at them. 

 

“I don’t want to go into the ministry like my father or Percy, or to Gringotts like my oldest brother Bill, or even to tame dragons, like Charlie. But I think what I want to do, in light of how things are escalating in the wizarding world right now, is just as noble as your plans.”

 

_ Oh no! Maybe he can read my thoughts!  _ Even though the fear of Fred's Legilimency was high for Michelle, she was oddly excited to hear what the biggest jokester in her class had a "noble plan." 

 

_ Maybe he wants to be an Auror? Or a spy for the Ministry? Or maybe he plans to join that underground group I heard about, the one run by Dumbledore… what was it called? The Order of Something? _

 

“What’s your plan, Weasley?” she asked, trying to contain her excitement.

 

“George and I are going to open a joke shop.”

 

Michelle paled. She wasn’t even sure how to respond to something so silly.  _ How could he be so ignorant? _ At least she had plans to go on and do something that would help. What would he be doing? Trying to compete with Zonko’s, selling stupid products to play pranks on your friends.  _ What a coward. _

 

“You don’t like my plan,” Fred said, snapping her out of her utter loathing.

 

“That is all you want to do, in light of what could be occurring in the wizarding world? The fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could be back and killing innocent young men with full, bright lives ahead of them, and you want to open a joke shop?” Michelle started to shout, frightening several of the House Elves into corners and under tables. “What are you going to do, kill him with dungbombs and a Grow Your Own Warts Kit?”

 

“Hey, relax. You’re scaring the poor House Elves. Sit down,” Fred tried to calm Michelle down.

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled to the startled elves cowering away from her.

 

“No, I don’t intend on bring joke products into war. A war that I assure is brewing and will be very real. There is no joke behind that." Fred looked pensive and thoughtful, almost haunted, which scared Michelle a bit. "But in a world of darkness, a bright spot where happiness can grow, even for a short time, can mean the world to someone. I want to be that bright spot, especially for children.”

 

Michelle’s features softened, as if he had warmed her ice cold heart.  _ Maybe this Weasley isn’t so foul after all _ .


	5. "Mates" with a Weasley Twin

**Wednesday, December 4, 1995 4:00pm**

 

It had been a nice, quiet few weeks since Michelle’s rendezvous with Fred in the hall, which led to… well, she wasn’t sure what to call the event in the kitchens. They weren’t mates, so she didn’t want to say they were hanging out. And it certainly wasn’t a date. The day she liked a man like Fred Weasley was the day she was checking herself into the Janus Thickey ward in St. Mungos. But the event wasn’t more than just a conversation that turned into an argument, which morphed into an admiration. It was just an event and that was what she was calling it, not that she had anyone to call it that with.

When she came to Hogwarts, she had a few friends from her Gran’s wizarding neighborhood. They already knew all her dirty little secrets, if that’s what you want to call them, and many of them were sorted into different houses. So they quickly went their separate ways. Many of the friends she made in Ravenclaw had deserted her when she didn’t really have time to spend with them. She knew that it was just easier to not invite her to things, when her answer would more than likely be, “I can’t. I have…” 

 

She knew the rest of her housemates found her a bit strange with her constant need to take notes, revise, and in strange situations, quiz herself and her friends on the latest lessons. Everyone in Ravenclaw was fighting to be the best; but Michelle wasn’t trying to be the best. She was trying to get to her finish line and the closer she came to crossing it, she seemed farther and farther away. 

 

She had been so focused on being a Healer that she hadn’t even given any thought to what else she could be. For Michelle, there was no other option. There were things that she enjoyed doing, like reading and writing but those didn’t translate to a job and certainly not one that would be accepted in the Cartwright house. If she were being honest, she didn’t think her mother would care very much what she did with her life; she herself being a wizard photographer. But her father still very much cared about his mother’s opinion. And Gran expected nothing less the top Healer in her class. 

Michelle couldn’t stay away from her own version of fun and frivolity, though. She needed to be around books. So a few afternoons a week, she worked in the library, reshelving books and helping the younger kids. Sometimes even helping the older kids. Some days, she would find herself reading the books she was supposed to be putting away. Or she would just open them to get that smell—old pages turning. The musty scent was something she didn’t think she could live without.

This day felt different for some reason. Her head was somewhere else. She couldn’t concentrate on the books, particularly the copy of _ A Guide to Medieval Sorcery _ , which she had read the cover of at least ten times before figuring out where it went on the shelf. She wasn’t even sure why she was in such a fog; she just hadn’t been able to get what Fred had said to her in the kitchens out of her head.  _ Does being happy with what you do really matter? I will be helping people. I’m sure I can gain happiness and satisfaction knowing that I cared for another person. Can’t I? _

With her mind cloudy, Michelle almost missed the red Weasley hair as she turned down an aisle. Once she saw it, though, she felt compelled to figure out who of the Weasley brood it was. She crept closer and strained her eyes, looking for something that she wasn’t sure what she would do with, if she found it. But when she saw the light scar over his left eye, she knew it was the one she was hoping it would be.  _ Did I really just hope that it was Fred? Maybe I am going barmy. _

“Oi! What are you doing in here, Weasley?” Michelle said walking into one of the library’s many study spaces.

“Michelle?” Fred’s face lit up, when he heard her voice. His head popped up from his book to see her staring at him, three books in her hands.

Michelle’s face screwed up, making Fred wonder what he had done wrong.  _ Do I have something on my face? Am I drooling?  _ He did just wake up. Fred knew that trying to get assignments done when he was exhausted was a challenge, but he still continued to wait until the last minute every week. Quiet places like the library made him fall asleep; but loud places like the common room, or anywhere near George and Lee, he couldn’t get anything done. But now, he was wishing he had just tried to do his work in his dormitory. Then he wouldn’t have looked like a total fool in front of Michelle. He should have known that she would be here.

“I’m just surprised that you remember my first name. You never use it.”

“Sorry, you caught me off guard, Cartwright,”  _ Blimey, why don’t you keep acting like a git, Fred. Maybe, she’ll start thinking you like her. Then you’ll have a barmy swot following you around. Then she’ll get on your case, too. You don’t need another Hermione! Gah! Stop talking to yourself! You’re gonna start looking mental!  _ “What are you doing?” He asked, trying to go back to his assignment.

“I work here,” Michelle said. Fred’s head snapped up from his parchment, surprised.

“You work in the library?”

“Yes,” Michelle said cautiously, “and the hospital wing…” adding the last part before her brain could stop her mouth.

“And the hospital wing,” he finally put his quill down. “Well, aren’t you a busy little bee,” he said crossing his arms over his chest. “When exactly do you get a chance to sleep? Or have fun?”

“I have plenty of fun, thank you,” Michelle said heatedly. “Not everyone needs to pull pranks to have fun. Some of us enjoy things like putting books away and helping sick people.”

“Well I think you’ve fulfilled your civic duties for the next thirty years,” Fred heaved his feet up onto the table and leaned back in his chair, trying to look as relaxed as possible. “Why don’t you just skive off for the rest of the year?”

“The rest of the year?!” She tried to contain her shout, remembering a little too late where she was. “Are you completely mental?  Mesdames Pince and Pomfrey count on me coming every other day to help them.”

“Every other day?!” his feet fell to the floor, as he allowed his chair to fall on all four legs. “God, woman do you take a day off ever?”

“I have Saturday and Sunday to myself.”

“And what do you do on those days?”

“Well, I usually... revise—”

“No surprise,” Fred placed his right leg up on the table.

“And finish my assignments—”

“Shocker!” his voice dripping with sarcasm, he heaved his left leg up onto the table, crossing it over his right.

“And I try to read or write a little.”

“Well, isn’t that part of finishing assignments?”  He leaned back on his chair carefully, before folding his hands behind his head.

“No, I—” Michelle thought better of what she was saying and stopped herself. “Yes, sorry, I’m a little out of it today.”

Fred stared at Michelle, knowing she was trying to hide something from him. Something that she either didn’t want to explain to him, or something she didn’t want him knowing about her – only making her more of a challenge. Now, Fred wasn’t one to pry—well, much—but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to annoy him until he figured it out. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard.  _ Maybe she has such horrible handwriting she has to rewrite everything? No, dummy, you’ve seen her handwriting. It’s perfect. I guess she could be the type of person who would write everything several times to remember it all. Maybe she writes home a lot? Blimey, what a swot. Mum would love that, though. I guess she could have a pen pal from last year too. Like some stupid Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. Or maybe it’s a boyfriend…  _ Fred’s head was swimming with possibilities. For some reason, the last one was not sitting well in his stomach, though.

Michelle felt uncomfortable the way Fred stared at her. The way he was so relaxed; yet, it felt like he was boring holes into her mind. She was starting to wonder if she shook off the idea of legimency too easily. Michelle tried to keep her mind as clear as possible. But that was almost impossible for her; she couldn’t just stop her thoughts.  _ Surely, Weasley wasn’t used to a girl like that. _ She always saw him with the most dimwitted girls, aside from that bushy-haired fifth-year, who was friends with his younger brother, and Angelina Johnson; she could’ve been a prefect, even Head Girl, if she didn’t want Quidditch Captain more.

“What are you working on?” Michelle asked, walking closer toward the table.

Fred got nervous, afraid she would think he was thick. He quickly pulled his feet down, causing his chair to fall heavily onto its four legs, louder than either of them expected. They both stopped, waiting for the sneering face of Madame Pince to round the corner. When she hadn’t appeared after about a minute, Fred quickly started to gather up his pieces of parchment and close the books he was working with.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“That looks like a star map,” Michelle said plainly. “Are you working on an Astronomy assignment?”

“Sort of,” Fred pulled away a little to give her a view of what he had been working on.

Michelle pulled a few of the pieces of parchment closer toward her, placing the books that she had been holding down on the table.   

“What do you mean sort of? This is a star chart, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I kind of missed class last week and the assignment is due tomorrow,” Fred reddened. “But since I missed the observation period too, I can’t actually do the assignment. So, I’m trying my best to figure it out from these books,” he pushed the books toward her. “I’m not having an easy time of it, though.”

“Well, I can get you into the Astronomy tower tonight, if you need to,” Michelle replied, without thinking.

“Really?! How?” Fred jumped, excited.

“Professor Sinistra loves me. She knows that I like to star watch,” she was starting think it might have been a mistake, but she couldn’t get her mouth to stop. “I can just ask her to leave the door unlocked for me.”

“I knew being mates with you would come in handy, Cartwright,” Fred said rushing around the library table and quickly pulled Michelle into a hug.

She tensed up in his arms, unable to think of anything aside from the scent he was giving off.  _ Do all quidditch players smell this good? _

 


	6. On a Clear Night

**Wednesday, December 4, 1995 8:30pm**

Michelle crept up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower at 8:29 that night. Professor Sinistra was notorious for letting students go at the exact second that her class period ended. She knew this was the easiest way to catch her professor before she locked up for the night. Just as Michelle’s foot reached the top step, a group of fifth-years came barreling out of the door. She quickly squeezed herself against the wall of staircase landing, letting the other students pass. It was only a few seconds before the last students trickled out and she was able to push open the door onto the wide open tower roof. 

 

The door slammed behind her; Michelle stopped in her tracks. A small smile crept onto Professor Sinistra's face, as she stared at the night sky.

“Another night of stargazing, Miss Cartwright?” Professor Sinistra asked without turning around.

"I was hoping to, yes, Ma’am,” Michelle shivered, unsure if it was the chill of December or the guilt she felt lying to her favorite professor. 

 

She was effectively helping Fred cheat. She spent dinner trying to figure out why she offered to help. Not that it was unlike her to help a mate; she would go to the ends of the earth to make something easier for those she cared about. But Fred wasn't a mate and she didn’t have any particular feelings for him. She tried to convince herself it was a favor because he showed her the kitchens, even though she knew that she didn't owe him anything.

 

"It is a perfect night," Sinistra mused.

 

"I'd be happier if it wasn't so cold."

 

"Ahh, yes, standing motionless in the December chill does not bode well for warm limbs."

 

Michelle tried to take a deep breath to respond, but it felt like her lungs filled with ice. Regret seeped into her. 

 

“Well, Miss Cartwright, you know what to do.” Professor Sinistra pushed the door open and began her trek down the spiral staircase.

Michelle made a few quick strides toward the edge of the tower, leaning on the wall. The stone was cold and a chill ran up her spine. But the view of the grounds made the cold she was experiencing worth it. She just wished things were this peaceful all the time. 

Fred sped around the corridor corner, before forcing himself to come to a halt. He spotted the olive-colored robes of Professor Sinistra walking away from the staircase to the Astronomy Tower. Once she had disappeared around a corner, Fred sprinted toward his destination. He knew they weren't out past curfew but he still felt guilty. He felt responsible for keeping Michelle away from whatever else she could have been doing, especially with the knowledge that she didn’t have much free time with all of the “activities” that she signed up for. Although, he was starting think it might have been her parents or grandmother. Fred believed there had to be a fun, exciting girl somewhere underneath the swotty behavior. If they continued to spend time together, he was almost determined to find the buried part of her.

He bounded up the stairs two at a time; his rucksack thumped against his back. When he reached the landing, he pushed on the door lightly, a hope in his heart that it was open and Michelle didn’t forget about him. Through a crack in the doorway, he could see a female figure leaning on the wall staring up into the sky. In one swift move, Fred flung the door open, causing it to crash into the wall of the Astronomy Tower. Michelle jumped quickly turning around to see the offender, praying it wasn’t Snape or Filch. She breathed a sigh of relief seeing the redhead.

“Must you always make a dramatic entrance?”

“Of course, it’s what Weasley’s do best. Ask Ron,” Fred replied cheekily, as he strode across the tower toward her.

Michelle glanced down at the Whomping Willow, remembering the story told all over the school that the youngest Weasley boy and Harry Potter had drove a flying car to Hogwarts. She thought it was just a rumor, trying to hype Harry’s already larger than life persona, but with another shiver racking her body she thought maybe it was true…

“So, they really flew a flying car to school three years ago?”

“Yeah, my dad’s Ford Anglia,” Fred nodded, heaving his rucksack on top of the tower wall. “Mum was livid. I thought she was going to pull him out that very night. Thankfully, Dad and Dumbledore talked her down.”

“You’re parents have spoken to Dumbledore?”

“Well, of course, loads,” he said, as he pulled his notebook and some parchment out of his rucksack. “Haven’t yours?”

Fred looked up toward the sky for a second, trying to decide whether he should bring his telescope out. Well, George’s telescope. The thick oaf knocked Fred’s off the astronomy tower two years ago. He had been trying to impress Katie and Alicia; however, all he ended up doing was leaving the two girls in stitches while his twin waved his arms furiously, ranting and raving. George chalked it up as a win, seeing as he got the girls to laugh and later Katie cuddle up to him on the couch in the common room asking what he had been talking about earlier. Unfortunately, the two had to share a telescope for the next two years, which never made things easy, not that having a klutzy twin was.

“No, there’s been no need.” Michelle glanced with jealousy at how comfortable he seemed in the cold air.

“Good point, George and I usually give reason for Dumbledore and McGonagall to visit.”

“They’ve been to your house?” Michelle sounded a bit surprised and a bit in awe.

“Well sure. You’ve really got to stop being such a goody two-shoes. You’ll get to meet so many interesting people,” Fred winked.

Michelle shook her head trying her best not to get into Fred’s way. She knew that he was only here to finish his assignments. Surely, he didn’t want to talk to her or answer any silly questions that seemed to pop into her head. He wasn’t there to spend time with her.  _ Why do I even care? I don’t want to spend time with him either. _  Trying to ignore whatever her brain was trying to say, Michelle threw back her head to look up at the sky. 

Fred watched her out of the corner of his eye. At first, he thought that Michelle just looked as if she was about to freeze to death. But upon closer inspection, it seemed like she was having some kind of internal struggle, like she wanted to say something. He hoped it wasn’t him, as if she wasn’t saying anything because she didn’t want him to hear her thoughts. Like he wasn’t intelligent enough to comprehend what she mulled over in her brain.  _ I’m probably not _ . Fred thought to himself, trying to concentrate on getting the star positions correct.

After about fifteen minutes of silence, Fred gave a loud sigh of relief and put away his notebook and the spare parchment he had sitting out on the ledge. He knew that his work wasn’t finished, but at least he had the star map, which was his biggest concern. He would just scour his book before class the next morning. It seemed that he would be having another long night, which in a way he preferred. When left to his own devices, he would find himself in trouble. Pranks and hijinks were his forte, but the trouble that came with extended periods of time with an idle mind was far worse than Umbridge’s blood quill. Given the time to think, Fred feared the future: the war that was on the edge of everyone’s mind.

He looked over at Michelle who was dreamily looking up toward the sky. She reminded him of Loony Lovegood, until she turned to him and smiled.  _ Luna doesn’t smile like that _ .

“Did you find everything you needed?”

“You sound like Madame Pince,” Fred said with a cheeky smile. “You’ve been working in the library too long.”

“I like working in the library, helping people,” Michelle shiver slightly, then took a few steps closer toward him, trying to see the parchment he was holding.

“Whatever you say,” Fred gave one last look at the parchment with his star map.

“You don’t even have the constellations drawn out or have them named.”

“Well, yeah, I have to go search my book and do that.”

“Why? I can do that,” Michelle pulled the parchment out of his hands and stole the quill she saw sticking out of his rucksack.

“No, please, don’t ruin it. I don’t feel like making another,” he pleaded.

Michelle ignored Fred as she drew thin dark lines connecting the stars into specific shapes, trying not to let her cold body temperature affect the straightness of each line. She didn’t even really need to think about it. She had studied them so many times, tracing them with her finger, drawing them in her mind. She made one last line, before blowing the ink dry. Fred swallowed hard; something fell heavy in his stomach, like a knot.

“Why do you think I would ruin your school work? I’m the one who offered to help you get it done.”

“I—” Fred thought seriously. He wasn’t used to someone just flat out helping him without expecting something in return. Being a prankster meant if you trusted someone to borrow your assignment or help you finish it, you left yourself open for retaliation. “No one has ever just flat out tried to help me.”

“Do you really think I’m that type of person?” Michelle asked a little hurt.

“No—no, I guess you’re not.” Fred looked down at the parchment she had handed him and saw the perfect figured of the constellations. “Thank you,” he said looking up at her, genuine appreciation and awe in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re not done. You still need the names, but Professor Sinistra will know my handwriting.”

Fred quickly plucked the quill from her fingers, afraid she would change her mind if he didn’t move quickly enough. Michelle started at the far left of the paper and started to name the constellation that she had outlined on the paper. Some constellations she would give a little info. She figured he wasn’t really interested, but maybe he would retain some of the information she was giving him and he would surprise their professor the next day.

After only a few constellation names, Fred sat down on the hard stone floor of the Astronomy Tower. Michelle reluctantly followed him to sit on the ground, not looking forward to the cold stone underneath her. Fred wrote feverishly to keep up with Michelle. First, he would write the name down on the parchment, and then scribble whatever note she would say after it into his notebook. He figured it was important. Whether it was important to the class or Michelle, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t seem to matter, he wanted to know anyway.

“That is the Hunter, better known as Orion. According to Greek mythology, Orion was in love with Merope, one of the Seven Sisters who form the Pleiades, but Merope would have nothing to do with him. Orion's tragic life ended when he stepped on Scorpius, the scorpion. The gods felt sorry for him, so they put him and his dogs, Canis Major and Canis Minor,” Michelle said with a shiver, pointing out the constellations around Orion, “in the sky as constellations. They also put all of the animals he hunted up there near him. Scorpius, however, was placed on the opposite side of the sky so Orion would never be hurt by it again,” Michelle moved her finger a hair to the left. “And that is Monoceros, the Unicorn. It is a faint constellation, but that only proves its history. Muggles believe that unicorns are fake, just something that have been created to fill little girl’s fantasies. But someone must have known the truth when they defined this constellation.”

Michelle went on for a few more minutes naming other constellations on the star map, before landing on a small constellation shaped like a ‘W.’ Fred had been curious about the small misshapen letter since he had watched her connect the stars, drawing it onto the parchment.

“That is Cassiopeia, the Queen,” she said quickly moving her finger to another constellation nearby.

“What about her?” Fred asked without looking up.

“What?”

“Well, you’ve been stating little facts about each of them. There has to be something about her. Why was she put into the stars?”

“I always hated this story,” Michelle sighed. “Cassiopeia was the wife of Cepheus and the mother of Andromeda,” Michelle pointed to another constellation just below Cassiopeia. “She thought herself more beautiful than the daughters of Nereus, a god of the sea, angering Poseidon. To punish her, her daughter was chained to a rock on the coast as a sacrifice for a sea monster. Andromeda, the chained princess, was saved from death by Perseus, who she later married. Cassiopeia was condemned to circle the celestial pole forever, and spends half the year upside down in the sky as punishment for her vanity.”

“How could she do that?”

“What?”

“Let her daughter be chained to a rock,” Fred looked into her deep green eyes and it looked like a hint of pain hidden there. 

“She thought, she was the fairest of them all,” Michelle quoted a muggle fairy tale, knowing Fred wouldn’t understand the reference. “That is Gemini, the twins,” she said, taking advantage of his short silence to change the subject.

“Twins, you say,” Fred looked up again, mischievously.

“The twin stars, Castor and Pollux, were the offspring of Leda, but each of them had a different father. As a result, Castor was mortal while Pollux was immortal. The two brothers lived as one, and as one of the rewards Zeus, or Jupiter, depending on the mythology, placed their image among the stars as Gemini. In Arabian mythology, the twins were said to be a pair of peacocks.” 

 

“Peacocks?! Those weird flightless birds with the crazy tail feathers?”

 

“Yes, those ones,” Michelle laughed. “The Egyptians said the two stars were a pair of young goats, if that makes it any better.” 

 

“At least goats headbutt things when they’re mad.”

 

Michelle started to giggle, unable to catch her breath. Fred smiled, feeling like he had just won a quidditch game. He hadn’t really had that feeling before with another girl. They were too easy; he really had to work for it, with her.

 

When Michelle had finally calmed down, she began again, “Well the really cool thing. Castor and Pollux are also said to be associated with the founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus.” Fred’s eyes lit up at the thought.

“Wicked.”


	7. Imaginary Hide and Seek

****

**Thursday, December 12, 1995**

It had been a week since Michelle had spoken to Fred. She arrived early to the few classes that she had with him. (Honestly, she arrived early to all of her classes). But he always strolled in right before the doors shut. And he never stayed after they were dismissed. It was like he would disappear in the few seconds it would take Michelle to close her books. The few times that she had seen a tuft of messy red hair bobbing along the corridors in front of her, it was never the right redhead. Twice, it had been his younger brother Ron. Four times, it was his twin. Their paths did not cross once. Not that she was hoping it would happen, or at least she wouldn’t admit to herself that she wanted it to happen.

After their constellation tutoring session, they started to talk about other things. Nothing of any importance. They talked about how she really didn’t like The Weird Sisters, how much she loved muggle board games, and how when she was a first year, she was dead set that Dumbledore’s beard was fake. Fred told her what it was like to grow up in a house with six siblings, how much he hates Celestina Warbeck, and how he pulled McGonagall’s tail once. 

 

It had all been a nice distraction. On a particularly bad day, she would remember how he walked her to the bottom of the Ravenclaw Tower staircase, the way he smelled when he hugged her – cinnamon, freshly mowed grass and clean laundry – and the wonderful feeling of crawling into her nice warm four-poster. That morning she woke up refreshed, surprisingly. She was starting to wonder if it was something in Fred’s smell or his aura, or whatever Professor Trelawney blathered on about regularly. Because that was the only night she had slept well in the last week and she held a strict bedtime that was not nearly as late as she had crawled into bed that night.

On this bright Thursday, which was making many students wonder if it would be a white winter holiday, Michelle was spending her time in the hospital wing. She couldn’t even enjoy the sunshine if she hadn’t had volunteer hours; it was still far too cold for her. She found herself wrapped up in her heavy cloak in the middle of classes. However, she was unsure if it was really because of the temperature or the fact that it still faintly smelled like Fred.

Michelle didn’t want to think about that, though. Having feelings for someone like Fred would only end badly. She knew he wasn’t someone to stick around one girl for long. And he certainly wasn’t the serious type. Michelle wanted someone to challenge her and she didn’t think he could do it. It wasn’t as if she didn’t think he was intelligent; they just didn’t have anything in common. There would be nothing to discuss. Surely, he would get bored with a recap of her day within seconds. It would never work. And she continued to tell herself that every time she got a whiff from her cloak, or she saw a redhead roaming the halls.

Instead, she thought solely about her studies. The potions master had become increasingly impressed with the way her notes looked, also noticing that they helped her performance greatly. Unfortunately, that meant that he thought she could do better. Snape expected so much more of her, in class and in their tutoring sessions. Michelle found herself revising twice as much for potions as she was before. 

  
  


Fred couldn’t admit to himself that he was hiding from Michelle. Instead, he was making excuses. He thought he forgot a book in the classroom. He had to use the loo. He wanted to take the long way to the Great Hall, since he wasn’t getting any exercise from Quidditch, even if he did spend several hours a night practicing on the pitch and running laps. The redhead continued to think about how Michelle smelled, like gardenia and jasmine, and sometimes if he got close enough, like fresh soap and apples. He loved the way she felt in his arms; she fit just perfectly.

 

But every time those thoughts crossed his mind, he would quickly try to clear his mind of all remnants of her and mentally kick himself for daydreaming about a girl who would never put up with his nonsense. Then he would quickly remember that up until this point he had been trying to woo Angelina, with little to no success. She would go on a date with him every once in a while, if there was a Hogsmeade weekend. And she would giggle at all of his jokes. But she was just too focused on becoming a pro Quidditch player. She wanted to be a memorable house captain and he couldn’t blame her for that. But he was starting to wonder if that wasn’t a factor, would Angelina fancy him? Or is it just fun to snog for stress relief? Fred was pretty sure that Michelle wouldn’t want anything resembling a mates with benefits situation. He didn’t want to be with Michelle, though. Even though the more he thought, it might not be so bad. She may push him to be better, to do better. He could turn his NEWTs around.

He wasn’t even sure why he was thinking this way. Fred regularly found himself shaking the thoughts out of his head. He knew he wanted something different, a joke shop with George, making people smile and laugh, to pull his family out of the pauper-like status. He wanted better for himself and maybe a girl didn’t come with that. Not a girl like Angelina with her own dreams and certainly not a girl like Michelle, who knew better than to be with a guy like him.

But he also knew that if any of what he wanted was going to come to fruition, then he was going to have to work hard. He and George had been toiling away in the unused seventh floor loo, which they had used as a personal storefront for several years, creating and testing new products whenever they had some spare time. They were ready to test something new but they were slowly starting to realize they needed some place to do the testing. The loo just wouldn’t work for this product. He needed Michelle’s help, but that was going to completely ruin the imaginary game of hide and seek he was playing with her. He was supposed to be hiding, not seeking.

Nevertheless, there he stood, staring at the closed doors of the hospital wing. He knew she was in there. He had gotten to know her schedule like the back of his hand in all of his effort to avoid her. Fred just couldn’t figure out what to say to her. He started to pace, trying to find the best opening.

“Michelle, I know I have been avoiding you, but I need your help.”  _ Yeah, that sounds great. Just straight out admit you’ve been avoiding her _ , he thought sarcastically.  “Look don’t hate me,” _  Not the best way to start. _ “Michelle, I’m desperate.”  _ Hmm, seems needy, not very Weasley. _  “I know you don’t agree with my aspirations…”  _ That won’t work. _  “Hey Michelle, I need your help.” _ Well, that is simple enough. _

He took one deep breath, stepped forward and opened the massive hospital wing doors. As he stepped inside, he realized this was the first time that he wasn’t coming to visit Harry, one of his brothers, or lying in a bed himself. He spotted her right away. Her back turned toward him, fixing the dressing on some poor second year who looked like he had a long session with Umbridge’s blood quill. Fred had given up going to the hospital wing for bandages after a detention. He would just take a few drops of the dittany that Hermione had brewed up one day during a D.A. meeting. Bandages didn’t seem to help. You just had to keep changing them; the blood would soak right through.

The door closed loudly behind him, causing him and Michelle both to jump into the air. She spun around to see the intruder, praying it wasn’t another young student with wounds like these. This was turning her stomach to wrap his hand. It wasn’t the blood, or even the deepness of the wound; it was how young he was. What could he have done to deserve this? She couldn’t see this as right, in any way.

Michelle saw the tuft of red hair she had been looking for all week and her heart sank. She hoped she wouldn’t have to dress wounds like this for him. She definitely couldn’t handle it. She would just end up in tears. Fred peered toward the back of the hospital trying to see if he could find Madame Pomfrey. When he saw that she was nowhere to be found, he walked lightly over to Michelle, who was still staring at him. Her bright green orbs searched his hands for blood.

“What are you doing here, Weasley?” Michelle asked when she saw that both of his hands were intact; however, she could see the scabs from his detentions. The young boy in front of her took in a sharp breath as she pulled the last of the bandages away from his wound; she could feel her heart break for the poor boy. “I know, I know it hurts,” she soothed, “I promise, I’ll be as quick as possible.”

Something in Fred stirred when he heard her trying to soothe the poor boy. His mind completely blanked. He couldn’t remember what he had decided to start with. His mouth went dry. Was he nervous?  _ Nothing makes Weasley Twins nervous _ , he thought, trying to focus himself once again.

“Well?” Michelle asked, turning away from a small tray of lotions, bandages, and gauze to face the boy in front of her. “This may sting a bit, sweetie,” she said to the boy as she poured a bit of potion onto a pad of gauze.

Fred’s breath caught in his throat, thinking about the way her lips formed the word ‘sweetie.’ He almost wished he was the young boy, getting patched up from an awful night with Umbridge. Michelle set to work dabbing the potion onto the boy’s hand. Her face tensed with each sharp intake of breath he took and each wince he made. Fred could tell it was taking everything in her to pull his hand toward her. He knew that if she wasn’t forcing herself to hold the boy’s hand in place, the potion would be nowhere near the boy’s wound. He continued to watch as the boys flesh almost sizzled, pulling it together.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to use dittany for those,” Fred said bluntly.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Michelle touched her index finger of her free hand to her lips, as the other cradled the boy’s quickly healing hand.

“Hmm, breaking the rules,” Fred sat down on the camp-bed next to the one the boy was resting on. “It’s like a totally new you, Cartwright. Am I rubbing off on you?”

“God, no!” Michelle looked horrified at the thought. “I just don’t think that woman should be allowed to torture poor students if they misbehave in the smallest manner, let alone leave a permanent mark on them.”

The boy looked at his hand, flexing it in Michelle’s palm and saw that the deep wound no longer held the shape of his own handwriting. A small smiled appeared on his face as he got up to hug Michelle. Surprised by the boy’s action, she stumbled backward a little, before gently patting him on the back. Fred quickly stifled a laugh at the look on Michelle’s face.  As the boy moved to leave, Michelle pulled on his robe, causing him to stop where he was.

“You aren’t finished yet. I still have to bandage it up.” The boy sat back down quickly and held his hand out toward her. Michelle made quick work of re-bandaging his wound. “You can take the bandage off tomorrow,” Michelle said, as the boy practically ran out of the hospital wing.

“You’re really good at that,” Fred mentioned.

“What bandaging a hand? Thanks, I guess,” she said starting to clean up the tray she had been using.

“No. Dealing with people. I couldn’t do that. Even mum has trouble with that stuff and I always said she’s be a right awesome healer, but then again the only people she’s ever had to deal with was us kids and we sure did squirm a lot.”

“It’s easy when they’re young and they didn’t bring the wound upon themselves. Like that poor boy, she made him write ‘I will always come to class prepared’ nearly a hundred times. The poor thing asked another student for a spare piece of parchment because he dropped his along the way,” she shook her head as she moved off toward the back of the hospital wing to put the potion and extra bandages away. “I mean, if the student is older or brings the wound upon themselves, I have less sympathy. Earlier, some sixth year came in with this great big gash on his leg, because he had been tormenting a mermaid in the black lake.”

“Been there. Done that,” Fred rolled up the sleeve of his right arm to show a six inch scar on his forearm.

“Why am I not surprised?” Michelle threw away the bloodied bandages that she pulled off the boy, before turning back toward Fred. “So, you never answered my question. What are you doing here, Weasley?”

“Is Madame Pomfrey around?”

“Is that who you’re looking for?”

“No, I was looking for you.”

“Then why did you ask where she was? You better not have planned something lewd,” Michelle backed up a few paces. “I will scream.”

“No! God, no! I know plenty of girls for that!”

Michelle’s face paled and looked hurt at the same time. It was in that moment that Fred realized he had hurt her feelings.  _ Why do I have such a big mouth? _

 

Michelle couldn’t help but feel offended and disgusted at the same time. Not only did she not need to know that Fred had an arsenal of girls to go to for sex, but also that he just wasn’t attracted to her.  _ Apparently, I am just not his type. Or maybe I’m just ugly.  _ Michelle fumed in her own head.   _ Why did he have to open his big mouth? _

“What I mean is—“

“I don’t need to know that, Weasley,” Michelle spat his name, as if it were poison. “What do you want then?”

“Well, you see, I—I—“

“Spit it out already!”

“We—Well, I—I need your help. A—a favor.”  _ Weasley Twins don’t stutter. Man up! _


	8. Light Up the Sky for You

**Saturday, December 14, 1995 11:30pm**

Michelle sat on the cold stone floor of the Astronomy Tower, her knees pulled against her chest, and her heavy cloak wrapped around her tightly. She was wishing for the nice weather of Thursday. It had gotten significantly colder in the last two days. As she wrapped her arms around her knees pulling them closer, she started to wonder if she could conjure a muggle space heater that her mother always talks about. Michelle wasn’t very good at bluebell flames and she was too afraid to start a fire and get herself caught by Hagrid or Filch or someone wandering the grounds. The last thing she wanted was one of the wounds that she was constantly mending for students.

Earlier that day, she had gone to Professor Sinistra practically giddy to get the permission to use the Astronomy Tower that night. She should have gone to the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts. She would have won an award. Michelle wasn’t one to deceive professors, but she just hadn’t been herself in the last month. Hiding students who are in trouble, sneaking into the kitchens, lying to get into the Astronomy Tower, Fred Weasley was ruining her.

She wasn’t even sure why she agreed to his begging and pleading. Michelle told herself it was because she knew that he wouldn’t give up. He incessantly chattered in her ear while she patched up two students. He followed her around the room, talking nonsense, or at least it seemed that way. Fred went on and on about how much her help would mean to him, telling her stories of how they would put a plaque on the wall in their store telling everyone what she had done to help them. At one point, Michelle had completely tuned him out, not even comprehending what he was rambling. Never before did she think someone could talk that much, until she left to go to the Great Hall for dinner and found that he was still following her. She continued to tell herself it was his persistence, but when she turned around to yell at him to go away, she caught a glimpse of those bright blue eyes. All she needed to see was the sincerity and she agreed. 

 

Michelle shivered as a gust of wind blew through the small space, almost as if it were taunting her on this clear, calm night. She let go of her knees, stretching them out in front of her, and propped herself up with her arms behind her. As she pulled her cloak closer, she tucked her exposed legs under her and let the cloak fall in waves around them. The only thing she could do was wait for the redheaded troublemaker. Just as she relaxed into her position and began to stare up at the sky, a loud bang erupted into the air, followed by two sets of footsteps. Michelle looked up quickly, panicked, and found herself face to face with two identical redheaded troublemakers.

“Hullo, Love,” Fred smiled, as Michelle jumped up from her seated position.

“Well hello there,” George cooed, “I’ve heard so much about you. George,” he said sticking out his hand. “I’m sorry that you had to run into him that fateful day in the library, instead of yours truly.”

Michelle took his hand lightly. George pulled it up to his mouth to kiss the top of her hand, before letting it go. Her hand fell like dead weight to her side, unable to formulate the angry words that were slamming against her skull. She said she would help Fred. Not his crazy twin and whoever else he happened to invited up to this nighttime pow-wow he planned.  _ Why couldn’t he just try to unlock the tower himself and not get me involved? What is he trying to do? Get me into trouble? Ruin my reputation? Kill me?  _ Her head was spinning. It was in that moment that she realized they were carrying rucksacks, and brooms. Why on earth would they need brooms? Her anger swelled, while the nervous person that she was tried not to have a panic attack.

George started to unpack his rucksack on the wall of the astronomy tower, but Michelle couldn’t make out what exactly he was pulling out of the box. Meanwhile, Fred walked in the opposite direction. He closed the door quickly, muttered some locking spell, and started to make his way back toward George. Michelle stood still in shock, fear continuing to mount within her, until Fred walked passed her and she grabbed his arm, pulling him toward her.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly.

 

“We have to test a new product.”

“New product? What product?”

“A new product for our Joke shop.”

“What are you!? Insane? Why do you have to test it here? Why did you have to get me involved?”

“You’ll see. Trust me,” Fred said, placing his hands on her arms, “You definitely want to see this.”

Even as curiosity overtook Michelle, the fury was ebbing behind her stern, sarcastic look. She wanted to know exactly what Fred and George were planning, but couldn’t believe he would betray her trust. Honestly, she was more afraid of what they were doing.  _ Why did they have to lock the door? Why do they need brooms? Was someone going to try to find them? Would they need a quick getaway? What am I gonna do? _ The panic started to set in again. Michelle was realizing that whatever they were doing was going to be dangerous. They were probably going to get caught and Michelle had no way to escape. As Michelle tried to think of an escape route, Fred pulled a clipboard out of his rucksack. George mounted his broom and kicked off rising into the night sky.

“Test number one, product number three-hundred and twelve. Proceed, Georgie, my boy,” Fred said quietly, while George took the tip of his wand to a cylindrical, brightly wrapped package in his hand.

“NO! Stop! Don’t do anything! I can’t be here,” Michelle screamed, panic coursing through her body.

“Relax, Cartwright.” Fred said, placing the clipboard on the wall of the tower and walking toward Michelle. “We won’t get you in trouble.” He let his hand graze her upper arm, trying to relax her. “I Promise. Here come stand with me.”

Michelle followed Fred almost zombie-like. She didn’t know whether she could trust him, but he hadn’t done anything to get her in trouble so far. He’d actually been incredibly sweet. She remembered the smile that lit up his face when he talked about his aspirations with her in the kitchens that day. Then the image of his reaction to her aspirations and her work load crossed her mind, the pity and sympathy that covered his face. It was the same expression he was wearing now.  _ Maybe he cares about… No. _

__

“All outbursts put aside?” George asked.

“Yeah, we’re okay, now,” Fred turned to look at Michelle and smiled reassuringly. “Test number one, product number three-hundred and twelve.”

George once again put the tip of his lit wand to the cylindrical package in his hand, before he quickly threw it up in the air above the grounds. It cracked loudly, almost as if sounding like thunder, before a wonderful shower of reds and oranges came down like rain. It was beautiful. And before Michelle could react appropriately, they were setting up for another test.

“Test number two, product number three-hundred and fifty-four. Proceed.”

George performed the process of lighting his wand then the brightly wrapped package again, before throwing it into the air. This time blues and greens exploded into the dark sky.

“Test number three, product number three-hundred and sixty-seven and product number three-hundred and seventy-six.”

George lit two of the cylinders and threw them into the air together. They started pink and red and quickly changed to purple and lavender, before turning blue and turquoise. Fred turned toward Michelle while George prepared for their next test. He could see the look of amazement in her eyes. He smiled wide wanting to remember that look on her face forever. Michelle caught his eye and blushed.

“Fireworks!”

 

It had been a while, but Michelle could remember being a young girl, sitting on the shore of her Muggle grandparents cottage at the start of the summer holiday. She could remember the vanilla ice cream dripping down her hand, the smell of sulfur, and the way it felt like a magical show that she had no idea she wanted. It made her miss her grandparents and the way things were before she showed any magical ability.

“Test number four, product number four-hundred and twenty-two.”  Fred said to George, before turning back toward Michelle, “Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-bangs, but yes, they’re sort of like Muggle fireworks.”

“They’re amazing.”

Fred beamed, truly happy. George lit another whiz-bang and it shot into the air, trailing silver stars behind it.

“Oh, I love that one!” Michelle exclaimed. Faintly, she could hear footsteps on the spiral staircase. “Fred! Someone’s coming!” She panicked.

“Alright, Forge, you know the plan. Prepare Test number five, product number five-hundred.”

“Prepare another test?! Are you crazy?! We have to get out of here!” Michelle cried.

“Relax, Shell.” Fred said calmly, mounting his broom. George pulled the last cylindrical package out of his rucksack, a package much larger than the last few they had tested. They could hear pounding on the door, and Michelle began to shake in fear, totally ignoring the nickname he used. Fred pulled her quickly into his lap and kicked off in one fluid motion. She wrapped her hands around his torso and buried her face into his chest. She hated flying.

The twins floated higher into the air and as they flew away, George threw the last test product into the air behind him. A large lion greeted Snape, Filch, and Umbridge as the three soared off into the night sky, the roaring beast protecting their identity.

“Cartwright, you’re kind of missing the view,” Fred put his hand on her back, reassuringly.

“I’m okay where I am, thank you,” Michelle mumbled into Fred’s chest.

“Are you afraid of flying Cartwright?”

“Only a li—” Michelle could feel him fly higher “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Fred laughed not at her fear but instead her reaction. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

The twins flew around enjoying the calm, cool night air on their faces, proud of a successful test run. Michelle stayed buried in Fred’s robes taking in his scent, trying to memorize the contours of his body, as he held her close to him. Fred could hear George snicker as he looked over at the two practically cuddling on Fred’s broom. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the feeling of her wrapped up around him. He could smell her hair and perfume and he could feel her heartbeat against his stomach, while his own was up in his throat. George took the lead as they flew over the gates of Hogwarts and toward Hogsmeade. As they sunk lower, Michelle’s grip tightened on the back of Fred’s robes as she tried not to whimper in fear.

“Shell, you’re kind of choking me,” Fred coughed.

“Sorry,” she said, lightning her grip.

Fred placed his free arm under Michelle’s legs as they hovered above the ground. The twins’ feet landed on the cobblestone road of Hogsmeade. Fred picked Michelle up off the broom as it landed and placed her gracefully on her feet. Unfortunately, he didn’t know that she wasn’t very graceful. Michelle wobbled on her feet and nearly tripped. Thankfully, Fred was there to catch her before she fell into the trash bins they had landed next to, which would have drawn attention to the group.

“Thanks,” Michelle said breathlessly, staring into his eyes, as he righted her once again.

“Hey, lovebirds, let’s get a move on,” George whispered harshly.

The two blushed and moved to follow him. Michelle trailed Fred, nervously, as the twins made a beeline for some hedges behind Zonko’s joke shop. George pulled back some vines and bush to reveal a small door hidden in the wall that the vines grew on. With wide eyes, Michelle tugged on the sleeve of Fred’s robe, a child-like look of curiosity and fear coating her face.

“Where does it go?” She pointed to the door.

“This one? If I remember correctly, we should end up on the fifth floor,” Fred whispered to her, while George pointed his wand at the door and muttered a spell.

The lock released and the door slowly swung open, revealing a dirt passageway. George stepped through the door and walked down what Michelle could only assume was steps before lighting his wand. Fred followed quickly, leaving Michelle out in the open of the alleyway. What looked like a disembodied hand popped up through the blackness of the doorway. She knew it was Fred and for some reason, she felt completely calm taking it and walking down the first step through the doorway. He quickly grabbed her waist and picked her up, putting her down on the ground in front of him, while George closed the door and muttered another spell.

Fred looked down into Michelle’s green eyes and his knees felt weak. He quickly regained his strength, within the second that it happened, but it left him confused. What in the bloody hell was that? Michelle felt something drop to the pit of her stomach as she looked into Fred’s blue eyes. She felt as if she might be sick, but this wasn’t going away with the quick blink of her eyes. She tried desperately to keep calm, but something just didn’t feel right.

George pushed past the two and began his trek upward. Fred followed, grabbing onto Michelle’s hand to make sure she followed closely. After several hills and sets of stairs, George reached a door. He muttered a spell, the lock released, and the door slowly swung open. The three climbed through the doorway and piled into the awaiting broom closet. George peaked his head out slowly and looked into the corridor. Seeing that it was clear, he opened it a little wider and the three ventured out into the castle. Trying to gain her bearings, Michelle looked at the tapestries to decipher where she was. She soon realized they were by the Prefect’s bathroom. Penelope Clearwater had brought her there one time in fourth year. They were friends, at one time, but Penelope got busy with her OWLs and a boyfriend whose name Michelle never learned. Meanwhile, Michelle had already started to plan her schedule for fifth year and a revising plan. 

The trio rounded the corner and tried to run up the staircase as silently as possible. Fred hadn’t let go of her hand, since he grabbed it to keep her close during their journey. When they had reached the seventh floor, Michelle knew that she would have to split up from the twins and the idea of walking the halls alone in the middle of the night made her nervous. She wasn’t even sure exactly what time it was.

“Alright, Cartwright, thanks for your help. Good luck on your trek back to Ravenclaw tower,” George said, turning toward his left.  “Come on, Freddie.”

“I’m gonna walk her to Ravenclaw.”

“Why? You’re going to get caught if you do that.”

“She put her ass on the line for us. Why wouldn’t I do the same for her?”

“You already did that, when you pulled her onto your broom. You owe her nothing.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Go to Gryffindor, I’ll meet you there.”

Michelle watched as the twins bickered back and forth in hushed tones. She got the feeling that this was a normal occurrence. She could picture them when they were pranking and couldn’t decide where to go next: they would squabble. She was sure it was not this kind of argument, though. They were probably more used to arguing in a lighthearted manner. She was having a hard time imagining them ever really fighting. It actually made her feel worse that they were fighting because of her. It made her sick and uncomfortable. Suddenly, she felt as if her courage came rushing back. Once she had gotten back into the castle, she felt like her stomach had settle back into place, her heartbeat has slowed, and her voice had returned. She didn’t feel like the scared little girl that had taken over her body on that Astronomy tower.

“Stop,” Michelle whispered harshly, letting her hand fall from Fred’s grasp. “Just go. I’ll be fine by myself.” She huffed, before stalking off in the other direction away from the twins.


	9. Persistence is Key

**Wednesday, December 18, 1995**

This time, Michelle was the one trying to avoid Fred, well more like ignore him. She found his persistence extraordinary. He was everywhere she turned. His vast knowledge of her schedule was a little unnerving.  _ What has he been doing the last month? Following me around?  _ The idea of her timetable being ingrained into his memory made her wonder about his intentions. She consistently shook that idea from her head.  _ Fred Weasley is NOT interested in me. He knows just as well as I do that we would never work. _ She knew that he was following her to apologize, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to accept it. That night had been pulse-pounding and exhilarating. Michelle knew she would have been disappointed had she missed it. But when would she have ever found out about that night? No matter what was on her mind, she kept coming back to that point. She and Fred weren’t mates; despite what he blurted out in the library that one afternoon. They were nothing, regardless of what his eyes said in that dark, dirty tunnel.

Michelle also knew she could never fault George for what happened that night. They weren’t used to worrying about a third on their missions, at least not one that had to go to another house. They ran to Gryffindor together. She was odd man out, like she had been in so many things before. There was no reason for them to be fighting over whether she should take care of herself or not. Michelle was almost a legal adult in the eyes of the ministry and that meant she needed to take care of herself – to protect herself. Yet, if it hadn’t been for Fred pulling her onto his broom, she surely would’ve been in detention for months, or at least the rest of term before Christmas holiday. Then her mind would turn to the point that if it weren’t for Fred, she never would have been on the astronomy tower in the first place. She was so conflicted.

She fell asleep at night thinking about the way she curled into his lap, the way he smelled, the muscled contours of his chest and stomach. She remembered how his eyes sparkled even in the dark of the tunnel. And she fell asleep every night with the image of the smile he wore during their product testing. It was bright, something more than hopeful. It was proud, as if he wanted to show her the world. She really thought for a moment that he would if she let him. But she knew better than to put stock in a fleeting glance.  _ It was nothing more than pride in his work and happiness at their success.  _

Michelle remembered, once in her fifth-year, having this same type of tug and pull within her mind before; she remembered it accompanied the same type of feelings she was currently experiencing. She and Hunter Jackson, another fifth-year Ravenclaw, had been studying together a lot in the first months of term. He had asked her for tutoring help for their OWLs. Knowing that she was so well prepared, she happily obliged. After spending many hours cramped together in a library quiet area, Michelle started to swoon over the simplest things he did. The way he wrote the word ‘Charms’ on his parchment, the way he held his quill, the way he would look at her over the top of his book, which he always had to have standing up as if it were a fort, all took her heart and ran away with it.

She thought Hunter really liked her too. He would hold doors open for her and sit with her at lunch after their early afternoon revising sessions. They even went to a Ravenclaw/Slytherin game together and he hugged her tight when Cho Chang caught the snitch. But two weeks later, Michelle saw Hunter in The Three Broomsticks during the Hogsmeade trip snogging Grace Powell. Her heart shattered there in the doorway, before she turned on her heel and stalked back to the castle. On her tearful walk back, she decided there was no use in getting attached to a boy while she was still in school.  _ They were juvenile, silly, and inappropriate. They can’t love me for me, at least not yet. _

In learning to live with the fact that her “One True, Great Love” that her mother always talked about was not coming any time soon, she leaped into her studies. She wanted to be a success, someone important, when she finally met him. Michelle knew that Fred wasn’t that guy. It was time to cut off all ties, like she had with Hunter.

Three days after The Three Broomsticks incident, they were supposed to meet for a tutoring session. Michelle left Hunter a note in their quiet room, something plain and simple.

_ Hunter, _

_ I can no longer be your tutor. I have been neglecting  _

_ my own revising. I need to focus more. Maybe you can  _

_ ask Penny Booth or Megan Forester to help you revise  _

_ for the OWLs. _

_ \- Michelle _

He never came to find her about it, so she assumed that everything was fine between them. A few days later, she saw Hunter and Grace snogging in the common room, their books spread out on a table in front of them. Michelle instantly thought that was no way to revise, which only furthered her belief that having a boyfriend at this age would ruin her future plans.

 

“Come on, Michelle, speak to me,” Fred followed behind Michelle like a puppy.

Ignoring Fred was getting harder to do with each encounter. Michelle could just feel it, but she also knew that he was starting to get desperate. She wouldn’t even look at him. He couldn’t even figure out what exactly she was mad at him for.  _ Was it George? Or the fact that I lied to her, tricked her, and forced her to stay in an uncomfortable and risky situation? Maybe because I took her out of her comfort zone? Or maybe it was because I stuck her on a broom and she didn’t like flying? _  But there was no other way out and she seemed pretty comfortable curled up in his lap.

He still thought about that flight. With Angelina, he never had to take care of her that way. She was strong and fearless. She was going to go for what she wanted no matter what anyone said. Michelle needed a push and a little adventure. She needed someone to teach her how to have fun, how to be fun. But each time he got her to take two steps forward, she immediately took five steps backward. She was reverting in the worst possible way.

“Shell, please!” Fred begged in the third floor corridor by Charms.

“Stop calling me that!” Michelle turned toward him shouting. “We aren’t mates, which means you don’t get to give me a nickname.”

“Ouch,” he said grasping his chest.

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you care, Weasley.”

“I do care, Cartwright. I thought we  _ were _ mates,” Fred spit back at her just as venomous as she had been so far. “I like spending time with you, even if you always pick the strangest places to spend your time,” he said gentler.

“You only want to be mates, so I can help you do illegal activities, like testing your damn joke products!”

“So, you think you’re only good for a quick sneak up to the astronomy tower? You think so highly of yourself, Shell.”

“I said, stop calling me that,” Michelle spit through gritted teeth. “And that is the only time we’ve ever spent time together, except when I was hiding you in the library and when you took me to the kitchens.”

“I’m sorry. If I knew it bothered you so much, I would have invited you out to the black lake for a stroll,” Fred’s eyebrows bounced, falling into his overly flirtatious ways.

“God, Fred, is every woman just someone to have sex with?! You can’t just be mates with the opposite sex?”

“Well, I’ve never had the situation where that was possible,” he shrugged.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” he grinned.

He knew what she meant, but Fred didn’t like honesty, when it meant putting his feelings on the line. Michelle certainly didn’t seem interested in him, so why let himself get hurt in the process. All he was trying to do was apologize for whatever went wrong that night. One minute, they were holding hands and he was going to walk her to her common room. The next, she was stalking off, completely infuriated, with every intention to ignore him for days, maybe even weeks if this outburst hadn’t happened. They would have gone home for the holiday and things would have been finished. They probably wouldn’t have been mates at all after that.

Michelle’s face reddened at Fred’s comment _. Why can’t he have one serious conversation? Why can’t he be an adult?  _ She shook her head at the thought. She knew that Fred would never grow up. He would be a little kid for the rest of his life. Everything was a joke. She actually felt sorry for the girl who decided to settle down and have children with the man. The poor girl would have children and Fred to watch. She’d never have a second of peace. Michelle couldn’t help but wonder if a girl who would be crazy enough to marry him, would ever really want peace, though. Certainly, she would have to enjoy a regular dose of insanity.

 

_ Definitely not for me. _ Once again, her mind was leading her in a direction she didn’t even want to go. She never wanted to entertain the thought of being with Fred Weasley, with  _ his ridiculous sense of humor, overly flirtatious ways, stupid cheeky grin, well-toned muscular chest, incredible blue eyes, sweet freckled nose… God, there it is again! Get this damn rubbish out of my mind! _

 

“You alright there, Cartwright? You’re looking a little hot under the collar. Thinking about me again?” Fred teased. 

 

“NO!” Michelle shouted, a little too quickly and loudly, nervous again, that he could read her mind. “Why on Earth would you ever think that?!”

 

“Blimey, Cartwright, relax, it was a joke.”

 

“And you know I don’t find your jokes funny, especially not ones involving your dirty, sexual innuendos,” Michelle countered, calming herself a little more with each second. 

 

Silence gathered between the two. Fred wasn’t sure what to say. He had been trying to get Michelle to forgive him all day and it seemed that he was only making it worse. He just couldn’t hold his tongue for a few minutes, enough time to apologize and fix whatever the rift between them was. Their relationship was strange and different to say the least but Fred had grown to like it. It was like having his own personal Hermione, except without the overly bossy persona that drove everyone away, save Harry and Ron, not that anyone understood why they stuck around. 

 

On top of her Hermione-like character, she was a puzzle that Fred just couldn’t crack, like one of those rubix cubes that muggles love so much. When his dad brought one home, the family each tried to solve the multi-colored cube. When it was finally Fred’s turn to take a stab at it, he found himself getting increasingly frustrated each time that he tried to align all of the colors. It generally ended with him frustrated and chucking the cube against a nearby wall. Like the rubix cube, none of Michelle’s colored pieces ever lined up correctly. And he could only try so hard before he would get frustrated. He figured he would give it one last try, before he chucked this friendship against the wall and left it to collect dust, much like the rubix cube. 

 

“Look, Michelle, I’m sorry for whatever bugged you last night. I know I shouldn’t have used your good nature for something that could have gotten, not only me, but also you in trouble. I shouldn’t have taken you flying without first telling you that was our escape route. George and I shouldn’t have stood there fighting about you like that. And I shouldn’t have let you walk away to Ravenclaw by yourself. I’m an awful mate for just watching you go.”

 

Michelle could see the sincerity in his sparkling blue eyes. She didn’t want to believe it; she wanted to continue to ignore him and forget that they were ever mates, which she still didn’t believe that they truly were. Christmas holiday was coming up. If they were actually mates, they would exchange gifts, write each other letters, and regale each other with their winter fun when they came back to the castle for the new year. She couldn’t really see Fred Weasley sitting down to write her a letter, or even picking out a present for her. If he did, surely, it would be something like a quill, because he didn’t really know her at all. They would go away for the holidays, not speak, and when they got back to the castle, it would be as if the other never existed. They would graduate and years later not be able to remember the other’s name. 

 

But Michelle couldn’t just walk away; she knew Fred wouldn’t let her. Instead, she would just grin and bear it. Deal with him for the next few days before the holiday and then she wouldn’t have to worry about him again. 

 

“Fine, Fred.”

 

“You accept my apology,” he asked giddily. 

 

“Well, it seems that I have to. Otherwise, you’ll never let me go into the Great Hall and eat.”

 

“That’s not true,” Fred shook his head. “I would just sit with you and your egghead buddies and then follow you up to Ravenclaw tower. And when you still wouldn’t answer me, I would just bang on the wall, screaming your name until you did, or I fell asleep, whichever came first.”

 

“You’re persistence is amazing.”

 

“Weasleys tend to get what they want.”

 

“You know, you have a lot of sayings like that,” she said, tilting her head slightly to the left, a tic she had when she was thinking. “’Weasleys always make grand entrances,’ ‘A Weasley’s charm is irresistible,’ and ‘Weasleys always get what they want.’ Got many more of those I can look forward to?” 

 

“Of course!” Fred beamed. “You know what I just realized?”

 

“Hmmm?” Michelle asked wordlessly.

 

“You called me Fred,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You never call me Fred; it’s always Weasley,” he said with a grin.

 

“Sorry, guess I wasn’t thinking straight, Weasley. Won’t happen again,” Michelle chuckled, as Fred’s smile faded. 

 

It was then that he felt that sensation he had gotten so used to over the past few weeks. It was the call. His pulse raised a little higher, excited to once again break the rules. He pulled the coin out of his pocket and read the time etching itself into the metal. Michelle looked at him questioningly. He had just jumped a little, as if frightened or startled and pulled out a coin for nearly no reason. He examined it closely, then shoved it back into his pocket. Fred could see the questions in her eyes but knew it was best to ignore them. This was something he couldn’t share. 

 

“Well, I’m glad everything is okay between us again,” Fred pulled her into a deep hug. 

Michelle uncomfortably let him squeeze her tight. He had a good hold of her arms, so she couldn’t exactly reciprocate. But that didn’t stop her from breathing in his scent deeply. It was involuntary; she didn’t even think about it. Fred did the same. 

 

“I must be off,” he said letting her go and quickly shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He rocked on his heels before turning and walking down the hall. “I’m sure I’ll see you before holiday, though,” he said as he turned slightly to wave goodbye. 

 

Michelle waved meekly, before heading into the Great Hall for dinner. 


	10. Realizations and Bird Bites

**December 24, 1995**

 

It was early morning on Christmas Eve, far too early for Fred to be awake during the holidays. However, there was the distinct tapping of an owl on his and George’s bedroom window. After trying to ignore the tapping for several minutes, hoping that it would just fly to another window and try to wake up someone else in the large house, George finally threw one of his pillows at Fred’s face, mumbling something about “opening the damn window, already.” After the second jolt awake, Fred rolled off the four-poster landing hard on his knees.

“Dammit.”

“Brilliant.” George mumbled through the pillow he had positioned over his head.

“Shut it.”

Fred got up as quickly as his sleepy body would let him and crossed to the heavily draped window. As he pulled the curtains back, he saw a tiny tawny owl, that reminded him very much of Ron’s owl, Pig, chirping happily, despite the package that was about the same size as it.  When Fred opened the window, the owl flew directly to his unoccupied bed, dropped the package, and quickly began to fly around the ceiling in circles.

“Blimey, you sure do have some energy for such a tiny little thing.”

The tiny owl continued to chirp happily, as Fred rubbed sleep from his eyes and rummaged through the bottom of his trunk where some owl treats lay scattered about. Fred and George always had to butter up the school owls to get them to send a rather large package for them, or even just a letter some times. They both considered it to be a good deal when they bought the largest bag of owl treats they could find, until they spilled all over the bottom of his trunk. George continually snickered every time Fred opened the lid of his trunk and the smell of stale owl treats wafted up to his nose. 

 

Fred didn’t find it as humorous. It didn’t seem to matter how many of those damn things he threw away, the smell was rampant, as if it has sunk into the fabric lining. But he figured he could count his blessings, because at least he didn’t have the green sludge that seemed to ooze out of the walls of George’s trunk. Fred just kept telling himself that once they turned their first profit, he would buy a new trunk, something fancy. He would prove that he was important. He would prove that he was intelligent, business savvy, and more than just a prankster to everyone who doubted the two of them. 

When the tiny owl had finally calmed down and seemed to be taking a small nap on his dresser, Fred made his way back over to his bed. A chill from the hardwood floors climbed through his bare feet and all the way up his legs. Trying to get away from the cold, he slid back under the covers before grabbing the package and letter. He opened the letter, surprised to find it to be from someone he never expected to hear from over this holiday.

 

_ Dear Fred, _

 

_ Happy Christmas! I hope that your holiday is going nicely. I heard that your father was in St. Mungo’s. I hope that he is okay and is healing well from whatever ails him. I didn’t see you at the end of term feast. Actually, I didn’t see you at all after I accepted your apology. I hope you aren’t mad at me now. If we continue on a path like that, we’ll be apologizing back and forth until the end of time. _

__

_ Anyway, I hope you like your gift. It was just something I had my mother make for you and George. She spends a lot of time making things like that; it’s her new hobby. She tries to sell some things at this event that muggles call a jumble sale. It’s where groups of people get together and try to sell the old rubbish they have in their houses or crafts they’ve made. Nevertheless, it is the zodiac symbol for Gemini. I know that it’s not your zodiac sign or anything, but I thought you might like it anyway.  _

__

_ I’m sure that even in times like these you are in high spirits, so I have no need to wish you well. Happy Christmas! _

__

_ \- Michelle  _

__

_ Ps. Please, make sure Noctuna is safe to fly before you send her back. I knew the package was too big for her, but she insisted. _

  
  
  


Fred quickly threw the letter onto the bed next to him and pulled at the wrapping on the small square box. As he ripped through the brown wrapping paper, he realized he was also ripping through a layer of Christmas wrapping paper that Michelle had wrapped the tiny box with first. He wanted to appreciate the care she took to wrap the present, but was too excited to see what was inside. When he finally got to the box and flipped the lid off, he saw the gleam of two silver charms that hung from two tightly braided leather necklaces. It was cool enough that he though even his brothers Bill or Charlie might wear it. 

 

He ran his fingers over the curves of the metal charm. It was cool beneath his fingers, the way water feels straight out of the tap. After a few minutes, he had been sitting there rubbing the charm between his fingers absentmindedly. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still feeling the effects of sleep or because he was trying to take in every inch of the necklace. 

“Wake up, Georgie!” Fred yelled as he threw the pillow that had hit him in the face only moments ago back at him.

“Wha?! What happened?! What?!” George awoke with a start, creases from the pillowcase lining his face. He sat upright, with both hands planted firmly on the bed. Fred thought his half-asleep brother looked like a newborn animal unsure of its surroundings.

“We got our first Christmas present, ya git.”

“Presents?” George asked, slightly more awake, yet no less confused.

“Yeah, Michelle sent us twin Gemini pendants,” Fred said throwing the other necklace at his brother.

“Oh, cool,” he said, running his fingers over the cool metal. “What’s a Gemini?”

Fred shook his head at George before getting out of bed to check on little Noctuna. As he got closer the small bird woke up and hooted at him cheerfully. George had already fallen back to sleep, the necklace clutched in his right hand. 

 

“You remind me of Pig,” Fred said, reaching his finger out to stroke the small bird. “I’m sure you two would get along famously.”

Noctuna happily cooed, nuzzling closer to his finger. Fred was surprised by how friendly and sweet the bird was in comparison to its owner. However,  _ the size certainly matches _ , Fred thought. His mind wandered to Michelle and the way she seemed to fit perfectly, the top of her head just barely grazing his chin. He could practically wrap his arms around her twice in a hug, with how slight her figure was. It was her eyes that bore into him, though. They were like an emerald color when reflected off the starch white of her school uniform, but this light seafoam color when she wore her school robes. Her eyes showed every emotion she felt, even if her face never betrayed a single feeling. He remembered the way they looked on their trips up to the astronomy tower; even through the panic, it seemed to be the only place where she seemed totally comfortable and at peace.  He couldn’t help but smile at the way her eyes lit up watching the testing of their fireworks; it was if they had given her something beautiful in the world of ugly that she saw every day in the hospital wing. 

_ Oh God, I might be falling for Cartwright. _  As Fred made the realization, he stopped petting the owl, who returned her discontent with a nip at his finger, still poised closely to her body.

“Ow, dammit!” He said, quickly shoving his finger into his mouth.

The tiny bird moved backward, frightened; her eyes wider than normal.  Fred pulled his finger out to see if he was bleeding, even though he knew he wasn’t, having not tasted blood. He made a sidelong glance at Noctuna; his aggravation still obviously present on his face, causing her to hoot back defensively. It was evident to Fred that it was his own fault, knowing full well that owls were temperamental birds. Yet, he wanted to be mad at anything else right now. With his new found realization, nothing was going to be the same. He couldn’t help but see Michelle as anything but an object of affection. She wasn’t supposed to be that. She was supposed to be the mate that got him a good score on his NEWTs. Not that he knew how she was going to do that. She would certainly never let him cheat off of her and he wasn’t really up for the crazy revising schedule she would surely plan out for him.

And now, worst of all… he had to get her a bloody good Christmas gift!

 


	11. I Was Dreaming of a Dream Girl

**December 24, 1995**

 

Once Fred realized that he had one more present to buy, he scooped Noctuna up in between his two hands, forming a cup-like seat for her; her little head poked out at the top and she hooted happily, obviously forgiving him for frightening her. He quickly dropped her off in the room that had been converted into a makeshift owlery in Grimauld Place. 

 

She seemed happy to meet a jittery Pigwidgeon, an unfazed Errol, and a confused Hedwig. Fred wasn’t worried that she would make fast friends with at least two of those birds. In his old age, especially during the holidays when Pig was home, Errol kept to himself and his perch. Fred took one last glance as Noctuna pecked at the bird seed left out and started to hoot conversationally with Hedwig, before closing the door quietly to find his mum.

Molly Weasley sat at the breakfast table, still in her dressing gown, appreciating the few precious moments of peace and quiet before the house was alive with Christmas holiday energy. She took a sip from her tea cup and munched on a few bites of toast, as she scanned the front page of the Daily Prophet. This was her second favorite time of day; the first, of course, being the time in the evening when her family gathered around the fireplace and enjoyed each other’s company. 

 

Her mornings had been lonelier with Arthur in St. Mungo’s. She hated to be away from him and wished that he was well enough to come home for Christmas. All that would be decided this afternoon when the family went to visit. Until then, she would just have to try to relax as the sun peaked in through the flowery curtains she hung up in the dark and dreary kitchen. Her peace and quiet wouldn’t last long, though; she could hear the hard sound of bare feet slapping against the old hardwood floor. Surely, one of her sons.

“Mum,” Fred almost whispered, afraid to be too loud, as if his mother was really just asleep at the kitchen table, like she slept in that spot every night so that she was never too far away from the stove.

“Yes, dear, what are you doing up so early?” She said, not looking up from the paper to see which twin was interrupting her solitude.

“Are we going to Diagon Alley today?” He moved farther into the kitchen, getting closer to the table and his mother.

“That wasn’t planned. Christmas shopping was supposed to have been finished two days ago,” she said, motioning for him to sit down.

“Well maybe, George and I can leave St. Mungo’s a little early and come home a little late. We’ll Floo, won’t even apparate,” he added, as he pulled a chair next to her out and sat down heavily.

“What did you forget, dear?” Molly said, finally looking up at her son, the panic in his eyes, and the concern and worry creasing his face.

“A mate bought me and George a gift and we weren’t expecting anything…” Fred trailed off at the end afraid to say her.  _ Why is this so uncomfortable? _  It wasn’t like he hadn’t liked girls before.  _ She doesn’t even have to know it’s for a girl. _

“Well I’m not particularly fond of you and George alone in Diagon Alley, but you most certainly better reciprocate, or the poor girl will think you don’t even like her.”

“Thanks, mum!” Fred gushed, throwing his arms around his mother. “Wait,” he said, pulling back with a sudden realization, “I never said it was a girl.”

“Oh, son, you didn’t have to. You wouldn’t be awake at seven o’clock in the morning if it weren’t a girl.”

Fred blushed at the thought that his mother knew without him even alluding to it.  _ What if it had been Lee? We wouldn’t have forgotten to get him a gift, though; he’s our best mate. Why does she just always know these things? _  He trotted back upstairs without another word to his mother, as he contemplated whether women just had some kind of sixth-sense about those kinds of things. Like they were all some kind of seer, who could look into a man’s mind and see what he was  _ really  _ thinking. Maybe it was only after they’ve gotten married, though. None of the girls he had ever truly liked seemed to realize it. Angelina was certainly oblivious. He had to hope that was the truth, because if Michelle could find out before he could even tell her that certainly wasn’t going to be a good situation. Fred wasn’t even sure if he wanted to tell her. Maybe he could just get passed this little crush, leave Hogwarts, and have no contact with Michelle, aside from the rare letter. He couldn’t help but think that maybe that was best, as he went back to rummaging at the bottom of his trunk for a quill and some spare parchment.

He spent the better half of an hour trying to make a list of things that he could get Michelle as a present. He wanted to get her something that was funny, because he liked hearing her laugh. But that made him nervous that she would think it was stupid and that he was just being his jokester self, like he didn’t put any thought into the gift. Then he thought about getting a really nice quill and stationary set, until that seemed so stupid, because she probably has a million of those. His next idea was jewelry, but that felt too formal. Even though that was what she got him, it was obviously different. 

 

It was in his half-asleep state that he realized he knew very little about her. He didn’t know any of her likes and dislikes, what kind of music she listened to (He knew she didn’t like the Weird Sisters, but who did anymore?), what hobbies she had (aside from stargazing). But what could he get her for that?  _ A new telescope? _  He didn’t have that kind of money. He needed to save every penny for the store.  _ A star chart? _ _ But those are so boring and you can make them yourself!  _ Fred was starting to doubt that she would even need a star chart. He was also starting to realize that buying gifts was hard when you felt like you were trying to impress someone. This was why he didn’t get anything for Angelina the last few years. 

Fred drifted back off to sleep with the quill and paper still clutched in his hand, trying desperately to think of something Michelle would not just like, but love.

_ His hand travelled her soft skin. Up her legs. Over her hips. Across her stomach. Around her breasts, taking a moment to hold them in his hands, to feel their weight and soft pillow-like appearance. With every movement he made, her breath hitched just slightly, knowing that she had lost control of this situation completely. Following along her collarbone, he wanted to remember every inch of her skin. Her deep brown hair splayed out under her head, like a halo; he took a few strands twisting them around his finger. He nipped at her collarbone, before moving up her neck planting soft kisses on his journey higher. He kissed along her jaw until he reached her chin and moved upward a few inches. Having wanted this moment for quite some time, he took a deep breath, licking his lips, and mentally preparing himself. He leaned forward kissing the pink plush lips he had been staring at for months.  _

__

_ What felt like years passed as they melted into each other. He slowly licked along her bottom lip, begging for entrance. He wanted to make this passionate; he wanted it to be special, to prove to her that she was more than just one of those girls. She parted her lips, grasping for his hand that held him up over her. He placed his other hand lightly on her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb along the side of her face. His kisses were slow and soft, as he regularly reminded himself to move at a tenth of the speed he normally performed at. Now that he has her in his grasp, he wasn’t going to speed through this like it was a race. He wanted this to last. Their tongues battled, each one looking for control. He knew that he would give into her eventually, but not yet. The fight was too good. _

__

_ After sufficiently teasing her, he pulled back, eliciting a small protest from her bruised, swollen lips. As he tried desperately to catch his breath, she raked her fingernails down his chest, making him shudder. This girl was driving him crazy. He watched as her eyes turned a deep emerald shade as she smirked up at him. She knew exactly what she was doing to him and it only poured fuel on his fire. He wanted more and he wanted it at that exact moment.  _

__

_ He gripped her hips hard, knowing that he would leave an ugly, purpling bruise on the bone, but not giving a damn. In one swift move, he yanked her toward him. Her already warm center collided with his hard member. A throaty groan tumbled out from between her lips, causing him to stiffen more, although he never thought that was possible. He ripped at her damp panties, tearing them off, before positioning himself at her entrance.  _

__

“Oi, Fred! Wake up you git!” Fred heard, just before the pillow hit his face. 

Fred shot up into the air, a thick sheen of sweat coating his body, as he tried to catch his breath. He was instantly disappointed and frustrated that the incredibly vivid dream he was having wasn’t real. 

“Get up, already! We’re going to floo to St. Mungo’s soon!” George yelled at his twin.

\---------------------------

After learning that Mr. Weasley could come home for Christmas, Fred and George snuck off to Diagon Alley without being caught by the rest of their siblings. However, even after an hour of fighting their way through the bustling street, Fred still couldn’t find anything good enough for Michelle.

“Come on, Fred, that jewel encrusted quill was awesome. Hell, Hermione would love it! I have half a mind to buy it and sell it to Ron,” George said slumping against the wall of Flourish and Blots.

“That’s so predictable, though. She’d be expecting it,” Fred said, before pulling George by the arm, farther down the crowded street.

As the two travelled in silence, occasionally being bumped by a stray shopping bag, Fred kept his eyes peeled for something that was special. However, it was the empty storefront that caught both of the twins’ eyes. Fred and George ran to it, trying to peer through the small holes in the brown paper blocking out the windows. It was as if twin light bulbs had gone off; they knew exactly what each other was thinking.  _ This will be the perfect storefront for our joke shop. _

“Freddie, it’s perfect.”

“I have to agree, Georgie, my boy. I have to agree,” Fred said, turning around crossing his arms over his chest and sighing.

It was as if some imaginary weight had been lifted off his shoulders. They had been trying to figure out what they would do about a store front for months. During every Hogsmeade trip, they would scour the street for recently closed shops. They even looked into the possibility of hiring a wizarding contractor. But this made so much more sense. They could buy this store front and all the kids from school would be drawn to it, especially during the summer months and holidays, when they were with their parents and probably had a little bit more pocket money. And this would allow them to continue to run a mail-order part of the business, to the students of Hogwarts, who wanted to buy products during the school months.

As they basked in the glow of their newly accomplished mission, something glittering from across the street caught his eye. It felt like something was pushing him toward the antique store. He had finally felt at peace with the world, like everything was falling into place.

 

“What do you think? Two floors, or more?” George, who was still moving frantically to see in through the paper-covered windows, asked his brother. “Fred?” He looked up to see that his brother was no longer standing next to him. “Fred?” He called again, finding his brother wandering across the street.

Fred peered through the dusty windows at a beautiful blue and gold music box. The lid had this stunning depiction of a small bird soaring into the night sky, created in a gold inlay. He knew just staring at it that it was the perfect gift for Michelle. He didn’t care what song the music box played; he had to buy it for her. Fred was already walking into the door of the shop before George could even ask him what he was looking at.

The woman behind the counter only asked him who it was for once but Fred still got flustered.  _ Why couldn’t I just say my sister? Or a mate? Why did I stutter? Weasley’s don’t stutter. _  The issue was that every time Michelle’s face popped into his mind, he automatically would cut away to the dream-her that entranced him that morning. The moans that escaped her lips as that look of longing filled her emerald eyes made him pale just at the thought. He was having a hard time picturing her in any other position with any expression other than lust coating her features. Seeing her in person for the first time was going to be impossible. He could feel the heat creep up his neck onto his cheeks as he thought about it. He quickly handed over the three galleons for his purchase and hurried out the door of the shop, hoping the owner wouldn’t notice his embarrassment too much. 

“Can we floo home and write this wizarding real estate company, now?” George called over to Fred as he came out of the antique shop.

 


End file.
